Children Of The Desert
by Mesan
Summary: We have lived amongst the sands for all our lives...it is all we know, our way of life. The dunes are our only friends, and anything else...is an enemy... Chapter 8: Blades In The Night.
1. Prologue

_"We have lived amongst the sands for all our lives; it is all we know, our way of life. The dunes are our only friends, and anything else...is an enemy..."_

_-Anonymous; untraceable wide-band broadcast during the Omega Land War._

-A-N-A-N-A-N-A-N-

_Click._

The sound of a button being pressed.

The low, quiet sound of a tape recorder whirring.

"Progress Log, Commander Rachel; Chief of Allied Nations Operations, Omega Division."

A soft, feminine voice, dulled from weariness and exhaustion.

"Things are going well over here. Rebuilding is going smoothly and on schedule; sometimes even ahead of schedule, thanks to Colin and Sasha's affinity for money...it's enabled us to increase our manpower by nearly thirty-three percent. Good job, too...much more of Omega Land was ravaged than previous estimations had believed."

A pause. The whirring of the tape continues.

"Lash has recently left the Allied Nations, to rejoin her fellow CO's from the Black Cadre. Lash, Adder, and Flak are now seeking to retake Black Hole from the Bolt Guard – seeing as they were missing after the final battle against Von Bolt, they must still be out there – and turn Black Hole into a better nation. I'm reserving my judgement on that one."

"Hawke…Hawke is still missing. His fate is still the subject of some fierce debate, mostly between Jake…and anyone else who foolishly tries to convince Jake that Hawke is truly gone. I'm astounded by his fervour and determination; maybe he's finally growing up…at least, I hope he is. I still have to tell him several things, but…ah, forget it. This log isn't for me to go on about my own personal feelings, not while I have a job to do."

"Anyway...back to business. In a couple of weeks, the main body of the Allied Nations Army will move into the large Lynx Desert, situated in the south-eastern area of the easternmost island in Omega Land. During the last war, we had passed it by completely; Black Hole didn't seem to have any troops there, and we were possessed by an almost religious zeal to hunt down Black Hole anyway, so it makes sense that we'd leave it. But now…common sense has taken hold, and we've decided to advance into the area to search for any remnants of Black Hole that may have hidden themselves in the desert."

A long pause, punctuated by a soft sigh. Dark brown eyes linger on a window, watching the streaks of orangey-red sunset gradually fade.

"Sonja's intel teams _have_ found strange emissions and radiation, similar to most modern cities…they're hard to find, and nearly impossible to pinpoint exactly. She thinks that something – most probably a Black Hole base – is somehow reducing, or otherwise eliminating, these emissions. It would make sense; they're on the run, trying to hide. What we _have_ detected is minute leakages, random radio waves and such, emanating from the desert in strange directions. They may be trying to contact other remnants through satellites, or something…we'll see."

Silence. A slight squeak of a chair as a body pulls itself upright from a relaxed slouch, and reaches a slender hand towards the 'stop' button.

"We'll see..."

_Click._


	2. Wrapped In Black

"_You know who this is, Lash. The time has come to take back what is ours. Rejoin Flak and Adder, and bring them to the coordinates on the back of this letter. For the Black Cadre never truly dies...it only sleeps."_

-Mysterious letter received by Lash, a month after the Omega Land War.

-A-N-A-N-A-N-A-N-

_Two weeks later…_

The dark, roiling waves of the Omega Land Sea broke futilely against the dark, cold metal hull that forced its way through the waves, doggedly pushing through the inky blackness to its destination. The hull was that of a massive Battleship, its large, threatening cannons shining in the moonlight, their precise, machined lines highlighted by the light that shone out of the ship's bridge.

It was the pride of the Allied Nations Navy. It was their most powerful weapon, and their proud flagship. Officially named the Dauntless, it had been given the nickname _Enterprise_, thanks to the presence of its captain, who was unfortunately – or fortunately, depending on your opinion – called James Kirk.

Needless to say, the Star Trek jokes started to grate after a while.

The Dauntless was not alone in its turbulent journey, either. Looking out from the rear windows of the bridge, it was possible to make out the shadows of at least twenty Landers, and the accompanying fleet of twenty-three Cruisers. A small detachment of Black Boats skirted between the larger ships, ready to fix any damage as soon as it occurred. Below the waves and completely invisible thanks to the turbulent sea, fourteen submarines prowled above the seafloor, checking for any hidden mines and threats. At the rear of the fleet, three massive hulks of metal ploughed through the waves, their large expanses of deck empty. They were the aircraft carriers Sovereign, Miranda and Yorktown, the three most experienced and battle-hardened carriers the Allied Nations had. This was no welcoming party, to say the least. Inside the bridge of the Dauntless, two figures were sat by a small desk near the rear windows, engaged in a quiet conversation, oblivious to the bridge crew around them.

"Hey Rach," Jake said, looking at his superior with tired eyes. "Are we there yet?" The 'Rach' in question rolled her eyes and looked at him.

"You sound like a bored ten year-old," she said. "Of course we're not there yet, Captain Kirk would have told us by now." Jake grinned.

"Should I make the usual 'Star Trek' joke, or should you?" he said, his eyes drifting over to the Captain, who was standing at the front of the bridge.

"No, Jake," Rachel said, trying to hide a grin. "Just...no."

"Wonder if he likes his tea Earl Grey...and hot."

"Jake, that's Picard."

"...Oh. Eh, whatever."

A silence, occupied only by the distant crashing of the waves and the soft hum of the bridge equipment.

"So...are we, like, there yet?"

"ARGH!" Rachel threw her hands up in exasperation, drawing glances from the bridge crew. "No, Jake! We are not there yet! If you're that bored, help me with Sonja's latest reports!" Expecting a reply in a negative, Rachel was surprised when Jake shrugged, and replied with "Sure."

"Oh…o-okay, then…" Rachel said, handing Jake a folder identical to the one in front of her. "Take a look at these; they're detailed intel reports that look deeper into those strange readings we've found. Sonja's getting worried about these..."

There was a pause as Jake leafed through the reports in his folder; they were a series of graphs and various wave-like displays, with every other sheet stamped with the dark, whirlpool-like emblem of Black Hole, and the date at which the readings were taken – in this case, from half a year ago. The other sheets had no such emblem, and the date stamped was recent – some sheets had been printed the day before. Jake raised an eyebrow as he looked from one sheet to the next, and turned to Rachel.

"Yo, Rach...these readings are like, almost the same. Whassup with that?"

Rachel raised an eyebrow. "Think, Jake," she said. "If those readings are similar to the Black Hole ones, what does it mean?"

"...That it's Black Hole out there?"

"Finally, Jake!" Rachel said, rolling her eyes. "It's nice to finally know you're not just a pretty face."

A pause.

"...I'm a _what?_"

"Eep! I err, I mean..." Rachel stuttered, blushing. "A-Anyway, moving on..."

"Yeah, moving on…" Jake said, averting his eyes and shifting uncomfortably, while Rachel continued. "Now that we know Black Hole's out there…"

Jake grinned. "We bounce on in and smack 'em down…"

-R-M-R-M-R-M-R-M-

The conference room was dark and shadowed, the lighting dimmed to highlight only the circular table in the centre, and the three people sat around it. The table was a deep, red wood, polished immaculately and carved ornately with an emblem of some sort. The colour of the table matches the walls – they were also a deep, blood red, although the diminished lightning gave them the appearance of being almost black. The three figures were seated in plush oak chairs with red leather; no expense was spared in giving the occupants a relaxing atmosphere, given their stressful, demanding jobs. One of the figures, a tall, svelte woman with long black hair, shifted in her seat slightly, before speaking.

"It's clear that they're moving large numbers of troops to this area. I, for one, am quite concerned. All remaining Black Hole outposts that they missed have been hunted down and wiped off the face of the map; and now they're coming this way." She waved a long-fingered hand, and continued. "I think they've picked up residual signals and have confused us with Black Hole."

A derisive snort came from the figure seated to her right. A petite, bright-eyed blonde female rolled her eyes, flicking back her short hair.

"So they've sent an army to combat what they think is a Black Hole presence here. Big deal. They can't have possibly sent that much, and our superior technology gives us a distinct advantage. You're worrying over nothing, Swift."

'Swift' glared back at the blonde. "I am _not_ worrying over nothing, Diesel," she said angrily. "Have you even checked the General's recon reports on the advancing Allied Nations forces?" Swift kept glaring as Diesel looked off to her right, into a dark, shadowy corner next to the door. There was silence as a dark figure shifted slightly, turning its head to look at Diesel.

Silence.

A glint of something reflective and red leapt out of the darkness as the figure nodded, apparently giving her approval, as Diesel turned back and took a sheet of paper out of a folder marked 'SG Recon: AN Advance', and read, her blue eyes narrowing. Her lips pursed suddenly, and she raised her eyebrows in surprise, laying the piece of paper back down in front of her.

Swift smirked. "Didn't think there was _that_ many, did you?"

"Bleh..."

The third figure of the 'trinity' sat at the table sighed gruffly, leaning his neck from side to side, cracking and popping his neck, ignoring the disgusted looks from his fellow CO's. Running a hand through his wavy, browny-grey hair in an attempt to tame it somewhat, he looked at the others with stone-grey eyes, scratching a stubbly beard.

"First things first," he growled, looking at them steadily, "We need more intel. Once we've verified the size and composition of their forces, we can order a stealthy mobilisation and placement of our army without alerting the public and causing a widespread panic. If we're lucky, we'll fend off the Allied Nation's attacks – _if_ they actually happen, 'cause diplomacy isn't out of the question, even though it would alert them to our existence – which would distract the public's attention from our blatant deception."

Diesel looked at him incredulously. "Are you out of your mind, Cougar! Lying outright to the citizens we've sworn to protect?.!"

"What they don't know won't hurt them-"

"Don't you _dare_ use that erroneous phrase on me, Cougar," Diesel growled back with surprising force. "They have a right to know! If we announce our intentions, we can deploy with much more speed, and cover urban areas much better, because we won't have to hide our movements!"

Swift rolled her eyes and sighed at the two arguing CO's as they went back and forth, retorts and counter-retorts being thrown. She looked past Diesel's angry face, looking at the dark shadow that was looking at the argument, whatever expression it had hidden in shadow. She looked back at the two just as Cougar thumped his fist on the table, trying a hammer a point home, and sighed once again as Diesel snapped an angry retort.

"It's completely shameful and unethical to lie to our populace, Cougar, for any reason!" Diesel shouted, glaring across the table at him. "We swore an Oath!"

"Oaths are made to be bro-"

"_Calm down..."_

Cougar, Diesel and Swift gasped and jumped slightly as they heard the, cool, calm hissing voice, and their heads swiveled to look at the shadow, its ruby-red gaze alighting on them. Cougar and Diesel fell silent immediately.

"_There is no point in arguing about something like this,"_ the figure said, its quiet, calm voice echoing slightly. _"They are only days away from coming within range of our intensive scanners; only then can we get a precise report on their forces, as it would be too risky to send recon units directly into the path of that juggernaut of an army. Because of this, the next few days will be vital. I will place my share of our forces with the largest amount of secrecy I have at my disposal, while the rest of you go to the rest of the command staff and deliberate on the issue of alerting the public. With luck, I will be able to resist any inital push the Allied Nations might make, which would give us a viable reason to go to war."_

Silence. Cougar and Diesel shifted nervously in their chairs, not sure if they were being reprimanded or not. Swift, however, was smiling softly. A low sigh and the swishing of a coat broughther back to the present. The figure had shifted slightly, uncrossing his arms as he stepped forward a few paces, his features becoming less shadowed, and more distinct.

A pale face.

Long brown hair.

Dark clothing.

A black trenchcoat with red trim.

_Red-tinted sunglasses._

"We must make sure of one thing, though," Shade said, gazing at them all. "We must not lose..."


	3. The Calm

_"He's breaking the chains! He's breaking the goddamn chains!"_

"_Lock down that room! Those blast doors are three feet of solid Lash Armour, even he can't get through that!"_

_A pause is heard; after a few seconds, there is a shriek of tortured metal, and several blood-curdling screams._

"_He's breaking through! Lock down the entire ba-AAAGHHGGGHH!"_

_Silence._

"_HeeheHEheheheEHEHEheeehe...NOTHING! YOU HEAR ME? NOTHING ON THIS EARTH CAN HOLD ME!"_

_Crash of metal on metal; feed is cut._

-Intercepted communications from Sturm's citadel, three days before the end of the Macro Land War.

-A-N-A-N-A-N-A-N-

The sounds of heavy construction machinery clanged, rumbled, growled and screeched their way over the dry, dusty hills of Roistrona, the naturally desertified southeastern island of Omega Land. The Allied Nations, having landed on the white, sandy beaches the previous day, had embarked upon a massive construction project to build their main base of operations for this area. The region they had chosen was perfect for a large-scale headquarters like this; it was an old, weathered impact crater called the Maxwell Scar, worn down by time into a shallow bowl ten kilometres across. Various buildings in different stages of completion were dotted around it, most clustered in the centre, where a noticeable pattern was arising. Yellow construction vehicles swarmed over the whole site, chugging back and forth, while large dump trucks came over the southern rim of the crater, bringing in materials from the fleet, which was temporarily stationed in a large natural bay to the south while a dedicated port was being finished.

Right in the centre of the crater, ringed with the grey concrete shells of the half-built buildings, was a large cluster of tents. Most were military green tents, but some were coloured orange, blue, yellow and emerald green; it was easy to see that they belonged to the four member countries of the Allied Nations. They were arranged in a circle around a larger, central tent that served as a temporary discussion area and campaign planning room while a dedicated building was being built. It wasn't the most glamorous of arrangements, nor the most comfortable – the more vain commanders (such as Eagle, even though he denied it) accompanying the native Omega Land COs on this campaign had expressed their dissatisfaction with having to stay in tents – but it was better than delaying their mission even longer while waiting for the base to be built.

The sky was an rich evening red, streaked with thin white cirrus clouds; the sun was just peeking above the horizon, the small sliver of glowing orange feebly fighting the darkness of the coming night. The half-finished Maxwell Scar base was hidden in shadow, the last of the sun's rays coming in too low to illuminate the interior of the relatively shallow bowl. To counteract this, the Allied Nations had erected floodlights around the rim of the crater, casting their bright, cold light on the base below them and casting multiple shadows all around the base. The rumbling of the construction vehicles was petering out, as the various crews stopped their work for the night and let the various staff already present on the base rest. Various soldiers milled about, some patrolling, some going to their own tents to sleep until their shift came. In the midst of one group of soldiers however, was a small figure, dressed in an immaculate blue uniform and cap.

"Oh, err, ahem…ex-excuse me!" Colin said, looking around helplessly at the soldiers moving past him. "Hello? I, erm, I'm in need of some assistance, please…" Alas, the soldiers ignored him, or simply didn't hear his quiet, refined voice. Colin sighed, and closed his eyes. He'd have to use those techniques Commander Grimm had taught him now, but he didn't like them that much. He took a deep breath, steadied his nerves, and opened his mouth.

"AHEM!"

Suddenly, the soldiers took notice, turning to look at the young Blue Moonian CO. "Oh, hi Commander Colin!" said one; his drawling accent marked him out as a southern Orange Star soldier. "Thought ah heard ya voice." He waved his comrades on. "Ah'll catch up with you guys later!" Turning back to Colin, he scratched his head. "So…what's the matter, Sir?"

Colin bit his lip. "Well, I, err, I…I'm having a bit of trouble in locating Commander Sasha," he admitted, blushing. "To be truthful, I-I'm still not used to the layout of this new base." He lifted his cap off his head with one hand, and scratched the short brown hair underneath with the other. "It's terribly confusing."

The soldier gazed off to the side, thinking for a few seconds, before his eyes snapped back to look at Colin. " She should be in one of the blue tents in the centre of the base, along that way," he said, pointing down a narrow, alley-like path to Colin's left. "Given that the CO's shifts are over now, of course…"

Colin nodded at the soldier. "T-Thank you. I'll go see her now. Thank you for your assistance." The soldier smiled and waved the young CO off as Colin turned and headed down the alley, fixing his cap firmly on his head again. It didn't take that long to find Sasha's personal tent; Colin almost facepalmed when he saw that it was right next to his own.

"I have really got to acquire a map of this base…" Shaking his head forlornly, he stood in front of the tent's entrance, and called after his sister.

"Sasha! Are-are you in there? It's Colin! I've been looking all over for you, Sister…" he said, leaning slightly towards the door. "…Hello?" he called again, looking slightly worried at the lack of response, until a voice from behind him made Colin jump out of his skin.

"I've been looking all over for you, too."

"GAH!" Colin cried, jumping and whirling around, his light brown eyes meeting the darker brown of his sister's, who was busy smirking at her panicked sibling. "S-Sasha! You almost gave me a heart attack!" He frowned. "Now isn't really the time for levity and…and…horseplay."

Sasha raised an eyebrow. "Horseplay? Colin, I think you need to learn some better adjectives…making you jump is _hardly_ horseplay. Anyway," she said, placing a hand on her hip, "Why isn't it the time for levity right now? We're on our way to finish off the last remnants of Black Hole, or the Bolt Guard, or whichever it is right now, and after all we've been through recently, we're still here…levity is exactly what we need."

Colin nodded. "Yes, I know, but…it just feels like this is just a pause, like…like…the calm before a storm. Something bad is going to happen, I can just _feel_ it." He shuddered. "It's like a chill…and considering we're in a desert with evening temperatures of twenty degrees Celsius, it's slightly troubling."

Sasha bit her lip. She knew that feeling, and she knew it usually didn't bode well for them both. She shook her head, and brushed her concerns aside. "Just…put it out of your mind for now," she advised Colin. "I do believe it's curfew for the younger CO's, anyway. You'd better get back to your tent. Early bed, early rise, and all that."

Colin opened his mouth, ready to protest, but a stern look from his older sister sent him scurrying away, his small form disappearing into the blue folds of his own tent. Sasha sighed. Colin was a bit too meek sometimes, too subservient, too easily pleased with just being ordered around and leaving all the plans to his superiors. The Argenti family was known for being wilful, headstrong and passionate – collectively known as the Argenti Fire, traits Sasha exhibited very well – but Colin was growing up to be the very opposite of this paradigm. Sasha had decided long ago that she would have to 'fan the flames of the Argenti fire' in him, so to speak, but it had proven to be a spectacularly hard task. She turned, and headed for her own tent, before a gloved hand on her shoulder brought her to a stop.

"Yo, Sasha. You okay?"

Sasha smiled and turned, coming face to face with a concerned-looking Jake. The ginger-haired, headphone-wearing CO was peering at her, his brow creased in a frown.

"I'm fine, Jake, really…" she said, taking his hand and moving it off his shoulder. "I'm just…tired, I guess. I wouldn't say I've been overworked, but this desert heat…I'm not really used to it, and-"

"Woah, Sasha," Jake said, grinning. "I think the heat's making you, like, babble, too." Before Sasha could come back with a retort, he continued. "Don't sweat it, I'm kidding. It's hotter than my mix tape out here, so…yeah. I can relate." He folded his arms, and looked off to the side. "Just hope we haven't rolled out here for nothing. I'm all ready to drop those Black Hole fools again."

Sasha nodded, looking in the same direction as Jake, watching the quickly darkening sky. "With luck, any fighting will be quick, and easily resolved… there cannot be many Black Hole troops out here to defeat, as a large force would have been spotted quite easily. After that, we can return to the easier task of reconstruction again."

"Word," Jake said, looking back at Sasha and smiling. "We won't be out here for long."

-R-M-R-M-R-M-R-M-

"They'll be stuck here for months, Cougar," Shade droned, looking out over the desert, his shaded eyes focused on the setting sun. "That is not a good thing." He turned his back on the brilliant orange sky and dark shadowy dunes and leant against the railings of the balcony he and Cougar were on; they had come out of their headquarters to discuss the recent decision concerning the Allied Nations by the command staff, and in Cougar's case, have a smoke.

"I hear that," Cougar growled, taking a long drag on his cigarette. "Fine men are going to die unless, by some _miracle_, we can solve things diplomatically." He walked over and stood in front of Shade. "Remember, the command staff said that we have ta wait and watch until those Allied Nations guys make a move; if it's hostile, we retaliate. If it's simply an attempt to communicate, well…we might have to finally reveal ourselves. This 'hiding from the world' business ain't gonna last forever."

Shade sighed, and nodded, running a hand through his shoulder-length hair. "Indeed. It's lasted this far, but the recent Omega Land War was a death knell for our secrecy. I'm still not happy about it, though. Those are _my_ men who will take any initial attack. We're asking them to put their lives on the line by acting as a buffer, so to speak." Cougar opened his mouth to speak, but Shade raised a hand. "I know, that's a risk that we're going to have to take, but I can't help but feel like a bad commander for ordering them to do it."

Cougar nodded, sympathy written on his face. "It's hard to feel good about ordering your forces at any time, Boss," he said sadly. "Ya always know that some of 'em won't come back alive. But they believe in us – in _you_. They joined up knowing that they might die, but they did it anyway. They wanna fight for our country, for Red Mesa. They risk their lives so our citizens can live to see another day."

Taking another drag and blowing smoke off to the side, Cougar continued. "They made a choice, Boss. They stare Death in the face, they go off on missions fully knowin' that they might be the next casualty, the next sack o' meat lyin' there on the battlefield. But they _still do it_, they still sign up, they keep goin' on missions, they don't pack it in. They do it because they love their country, and never wanna see it conquered. They wanna defend what we have, to hold it an' hold it an' never let go. Instead of being saddened by the fact that your orders might kill 'em, you should be _proud_ that they'll risk their lives for you…for all o' us."

A long silence followed; Shade had looked down at the floor halfway through Cougar's pep talk, his eyes distant and unseeing. After a minute of silence, he looked up at his fellow CO, and smiled.

"You're right, absolutely right. Thanks, Miavia. I needed a pep talk."

Cougar raised an eyebrow and laughed. "We're on first name terms now? Well, ah guess ah can call ya Matthew then, eh?"

Shade nodded. "Of course. I won't let things like discipline and rank get in the way of camaraderie and friendship." He folded his arms and mock-frowned. "Don't use it in front of the soldiers, though."

"Sure thing, _Matty_," Cougar said with a grin. He paused, looked off to the side, then looked back at Shade. "Y'know, Swift's been worryin' about you lately."

Shade raised his eyebrows. "Swift worries about everyone, Miavia. I'm fine," he said, waving a hand. "I've been okay for quite a while now."

Cougar shrugged, and turned towards the doors that led into the HQ, calling over his shoulder as he left. "She seemed pretty concerned…but I'll take your word for it, Boss."

'_He's not telling the truth, o' course,'_ Cougar thought. _'Shade's never been tha most…stable of people…'_

As Cougar left, Shade sighed, shaking his head and turning back towards the dying embers of the sky, his pale skin blazing the same orange as the rapidly setting sun, his lips moving as he murmured an old nursery rhyme that had suddenly sprung to mind.

"Tick, tock, goes the clock…master of me, you, and all, holding the truth, in its thrall…"


	4. Before

"_Two eyes can't see everything, buddski. But, then again…I am much, much more…than a mere pair of eyes. Let's just say that I can see a lot. Kinda like Big Brother after a few shots of vodka and a sugar high. Hehehehe…"_

-Databurst intercepted during Operation Pincer Strike, originating from a spot directly on the equator, in the middle of a featureless stretch of ocean. Author unknown.

-A-N-A-N-A-N-A-N-

The morning sun cast out its weak light over the Lynx Desert, bathing the golden dunes in an orangey-red light, turning the shifting, swirling sands into a violent cacophony of fiery colour. The first slivers of the rising sun were crawling into view, their rays struggling to pierce even the faintest of mists that had wisped its way inshore. It drifted slowly and silently across the barren sands, the volcanic sky above it completing the image of a smoky, war-torn wasteland.

Several small dots crawled their way along the landscape off in the distance, plumes of sand emanating behind them as they motored their way along. Five, ten, twenty, a hundred…in all, nearly two hundred vehicles snaked their way across the dunes; the leading part of the main bulk of the Allied Nations expeditionary force. In the lead Recon, an Orange Star model adapted for desert use, two figures were conversing in hushed tones.

"This place unnerves me, Sonja…" Rachel said, casting an uneasy glance over their driver's shoulder to the bleeding red sky outside. "The whole place just looks…looks…"

"Hellish?" Sonja asked, raising an eyebrow. Rachel nodded for a few seconds, before shaking her head suddenly and resolutely.

"I shouldn't be worried, really. No hitches, no alerts…what should I be worried about?" she said, taking her hat off, tossing it down by her feet and running a hand through her hair, breathing deeply. "It's...unbecoming of the leader of Omega Land's Allied Nations."

A pause. Sonja put her hand to her mouth in an effort to conceal a small grin and stifle laughter that was building up in her throat-

"Hehehe!"

Too late.

"What?" Rachel said, eyes narrowing slightly. "What's so funny? If it's funny enough to make _Sonja_ of all people laugh, then it's pretty darn funny." She continued staring as Sonja lowered her hand, unable to hide her smile.

"I'm sorry…it's just, 'unbecoming of the leader of Omega Land's Allied Nations'," she stated, shaking her head slightly. "I would have expected that from a speech by Father, not from you." She sighed. "But…it is to be expected, I guess. You're having to change your ways because of your position…I hope the others don't take it too hard."

Rachel's mouth opened slightly, and she frowned in confusion. "What do you mean, Sonja? I mean, I get the whole 'changing ways' thing – kinda gets me down, too – but why would the others take it hard? They know I have to become like…well, like my big sis – I mean Nell. They'd understand, wouldn't they? They're Commanding Officers too, they know what a leader's job entails-"

"I wasn't really referring to the CO's," Sonja said softly, cutting off Rachel's uneasy rambling. "I was referring to the people _behind_ those titles, the people that really care…me, Jake, Max…your friends, Rachel."

Rachel was silent, biting her lip apprehensively and looking down as a depressing silence fell around the two commanders. Rachel sighed, looked back up, and opened her mouth to speak-

"_Crrrkkk – Yo! Rach! Sonja! Can ya hear me?"_ came the crackling, staticky voice of Jake over Rachel's radio communicator. _"Just checkin' in to, y'know, verify your position an' all that junk."_

"_Saved by the bell…"_ Rachel mumbled under her breath, unclipping the radio from her blood-red jacket and speaking into it. "Reading you loud and clear Jake. We're about forty to fifty miles from the rendezvous point; we'll reach it in another hour or so." She gazed out of the passenger window, looking up at the now yellowing sky as she waited for Jake's reply.

"Crrrkkk – Cool. Looks like everythin' is rockin', then," Jake said. "I can't wait to serve those Black Holers and finish those freaks off once and for all!"

Rachel rolled her eyes and smiled. "Neither can we Jake, neither can we…what's the status of your advance recon party?"

There was a pause before Jake replied, his voice unsure. _"Crrrkkk –Party? I haven't even got a mix tape sorted yet – oh! You mean all these recons and shiz I have…riiiiiight." _He laughed, while both Rachel and Sonja groaned in frustration. _"Sorry 'bout that. I'd say we're…a few miles from the rendezvous point ourselves…we're slowing down, and it looks like the techies are getting ready to set up that scanning post Sonja wanted. Not long now…."_

Rachel nodded, despite that fact that Jake couldn't see her. "Yeah…" she agreed, her gaze drifting off as she stared into space. "Not long now…"

-B-C-B-C-B-C-B-C-

_Creeeeaaaaaak._

A door slowly opened, casting a rectangular splotch of light over the floor of the abandoned warehouse that Lash had arrived at. The wunderkind herself was stood in the doorway, framed by the light of the outside world as she took a few steps inside onto the cold concrete floor, letting the rusting steel door close behind her with a clang. Scratching her frizzy-haired head, she looked down at the letter in her hand – a letter she had received a while back, exactly one month on from the end of the Omega Land War. It had a cryptic message on it, which Lash mumbled aloud as she scanned it.

"_You know who this is, Lash. The time has come to take back what is ours. Rejoin Flak and Adder, and bring them to the coordinates on the back of this letter. For the Black Cadre never truly dies...it only sleeps._

_Respectfully Yours,_

_The Flightless Bird."_

Lash rolled her eyes at the last line. "Heh, what a lame nickname…" she said, turning the letter over and checking the co-ordinates one more time. Yes, this was the place. A deserted, run-down warehouse on the outskirts of Orange Star's capital city…why did he want her to come all the way out here anyway, especially with those two dolts tagging along?

"Speaking of dolts…" she mused, turning around and opening the door. "Addykins! Flakalakalak! You can come iiiiiiiiin!" she shouted, descending into giggles and backing away from the door as two grumbling figures came through.

"I ssssswear, ssshe usssesss her rank asss a way to punissshhh usss…" Adder hissed, his pale face sweating and contorted, grunting as he staggered under the weight of a huge rucksack, filled to the brim with Lash's personal items and 'toys'. "If I keep carrying thissss, my ssspine will ssssnap…but if I ssstop carrying it, the bombsss inside will go off…I mussst have done sssomething really bad in a previousss life to deserve thissssss…"

"Speak for yaself!" growled Flak, who was laden down with at least five similar pieces of luggage, stumping his way into the warehouse and closing the door behind him, cutting off the light. "I have to carry her stuff, yours, an' mine!"

"Aaaahhh, but you can handle it…" Adder said, leaning on a nearby steel pillar for support, his face barely visible in the darkness, apart from his glittering, snakelike eyes. "Carries luggage like a donkey, and lookssss like one too…"

"Grrr…" Flak rumbled, slowly stomping his way towards Adder, his massive form towering over his serpentine counterpart. "If I could dump this stuff without settin' off the boom thing, I'd turn ya into pulp."

"Heeheehee!" Lash said, bent double as she giggled at the two. "You guys are a walking double act! Hehehehehe…"

"Lassssh, if you would pleeeaaassse turn off the bombsss…"

"HEEHEEhehehehehehehe…"

"LASSSH! BOMBSSS! USSS! NOW!" Adder shrieked, his painfully thin form starting to crumple under the weight. "FOR THE LOVE OF SSSTURM-"

"Oh, fine," Lash said, pouting as she took out a remote with way too many buttons, and pressing a few. "They're off now, you killjoys."

_THUD!_

"That'sss better…" came Adder's voice, emanating from under the rucksack. "Well, apart from the crussshing…"

"Adder, you're a wuss," Flak said, plucking the rucksack from above Adder's prone form and laying it next to the others he had dumped on the floor. "Why didn't ya get Lash to rent a pickup like we had planned?"

"The fumesss turn my hair green," Adder hissed, picking himself up and carefully dusting himself off.

"Like I said. Wuss."

"GREEN! CAN YOU IMAGINE HOW THAT WOULD LOOK?"

_"It would be a marked improvement, actually."_

Lash, Adder and Flak gasped and whirled toward the sound of the voice. Adder shook his head in disbelief, his face somehow becoming even paler, his mouth wide open in an astonished gape.

"It'sss…it'sss not possssible…" he managed to force out, wringing his palms nervously.

"_I assure you, it is quite possible,"_ the newcomer said, his strong, tall figure appearing out of the darkness. _"A collapsing fortress is not as lethal as you might think."_

"Hehehehe, it all makes sense now!" Lash giggled. "I was wondering when you'd surface again!" She peered at the figure. "…Have you gotten a haircut?"

The figure rolled shadowed eyes, and stepped into what little light there was inside the warehouse. A grey trenchcoat, tanned skin, and silvery-grey hair came in view.

"I assure you, my hair is the least of my current concerns," Hawke said, his face as expressionless as always. "As for any questions you may have about how I survived, they can wait. We have more pressing concerns right now…"

-A-N-A-N-A-N-A-N-

"_Crrrkkk – Yo! The scannin' stuff is all set up, and we're getting' some wack signals!"_ Jake said, static crackling its way around his words. _"Reeeaaal crazy stuff, a few miles south of the rendezvous point!"_

"Wonder what that means," Rachel said, before having the radio plucked out of her hand by Sonja. "Woah! Hey!"

Sonja held a slender finger up to silence Rachel, her eyes distant as her mind went to work. "Jake," she said, "What are these signals like?"

There was a pause; Sonja bit her lip anxiously and looked at Rachel, who matched her anxious expression with one of her own.

"Crrrkkk – I don't have a clue, but the techies are calling them 'ghost signals' or somethin' like that. Very faint, and they say they wouldn't have picked it up if it wasn't for your guys being here, Sonja. You think this is what we're after?"

"Hmm…"Sonja mused, the cogs in her mind whirring. She had heard of ghost signals before; very faint artefacts of the fields generated by most heavy-duty machinery, barely undetectable. The only reason heavy machinery would be out in a barren desert like this is if something important was here, like a town or military base. She also knew that the Bolt Guard had been working on advanced stealth technology near the end of the war.

'_Two and two make four…'_ she thought, opening her mouth to speak into the radio. "The Bolt Guard – or Black Hole, seeing as the two terms mean the same thing in this day and age – were developing stealth technology. It must be them. Hold tight, we'll order the convoy to get us there as fast as they can. We are _not_ going to lose them after all this work. Sonja out." The Yellow Cometan turned to Rachel, handing back her radio. "Would you do the honours?"

Rachel plucked the radio from Sonja's hand.

"Gladly."

-R-M-R-M-R-M-R-M-

"Situation is nominal; Allied Nations forces are performing an intensive recon of the area."

"Commander Shade's shrouds are active, army concealment is at ninety-nine-point-two-seven-five percent."

"All technical staff, be advised; the main bulk of the Allied Nations expeditionary force is en route to their recon post."

"Forces in the field report a mild sandstorm coming in from the north; alert indirect units to the possibility of aiming difficulties."

The hubbub that echoed around the perfectly circular, maroon walls of the Command Room of the Red Mesan Forward HQ had no intention of dying down; it dealt with all the high-level duties of maintaining, ordering and directing the army in the field, passing down the directives from the Commanding Officer and displaying all relevant battle data on a large viewscreen set into the wall. Computer banks lined every inch of the wall apart from the screen and the mahogany double doors that led to the corridor outside, and technical staff members were sat at every station, processing data and announcing vital information via their microphones. In the centre of the room, on a raised circular platform, was the CO Command Chair. No techies were rushing back and forth from it, relaying orders, and for a very good reason; in the chair was Shade, his legs crossed in a meditative position, his eyes closed behind the ruby-red lenses of his sunglasses, brown wavy hair falling like a glossy stream down the sides of his head. He was clad in a plain black t-shirt and faded grey jeans; his black and red trenchcoat was hung over the back of the chair, swaying slightly in the breeze from the air con.

"Situation predictions are slipping towards the negative," came the broadcasted voice of a techie. "Possibility of conflict is increasing."

Shade's eyes twitched slightly, but remained closed. Even during his pre-battle meditation, he could still keep tabs on all the announcements…and the last one troubled him. After a few seconds of contemplation, he cast the thought aside, and sank deeper into his trance, descending deeper and deeper into himself until-

_Contact._

_FLAAAAAASSHH!_

Suddenly Shade was flying over houses and offices, rocketing away from the city the HQ was based in at incredible speed, the feeling of weightlessness enveloping him and propelling his electromagnetic 'soul self' further and further until-

There. Just outside of the city, in the dunes and the rough scrub. His soldiers. Barely visible to normal humans; rippling and shimmering anomalies to anyone who looked closely. Any other person would be severely confused by now, but Shade had done this so many times it was almost second nature to him. People theorized about 'psychic projection' and 'remote viewing'; through a weird quirk of his electromagnetic powers, Shade could emulate this skill and use it to view the situation from anywhere his army was stationed. His powers covered his units in a shroud of concealment; through meditation and concentration, he had discovered how to project his consciousness out of his body, 'latching' onto the signals that the shrouds produced.

He was slightly nervous about doing it this time, though; he usually dove very deep into the meditation, so much so that he could watch the battle from his soldier's eyes, but he had no idea how such an in-depth view would affect him if the soldier he was viewing died. From MRI scanning, they had found that several critical area of his brain were very active during his meditation; the death of a unit he was viewing from could possibly knock him out cold, or worse…leave him brain-dead.

He took the plunge anyway, diving into a tank commander on the front line of the waiting defences and looking out across the sands at the distant Allied Nations recon outpost, a gathering of dots barely visible through the growing sandstorm. He watched and waited, his attention wandering as he kept note of the announcements being made around his body back at the HQ.

_"The Allied Nations expeditionary force has begun to arrive at their recon outpost. Viper Team Two report frenzied activity around the site."_

_"A glitch has been detected in the artificial shroud tower for this town. Engineers assure us the shroud has no chance of failing."_

_"Alert! Allied Nations units are arranging themselves around the outpost in a standard Steinman defence diamond. Artillery are being brought forward."_

_"Allied Nations unit activity has been verified by Viper Team Two. Sending BattleNet into Yellow Alert."_

Shade 'gasped' mentally, trying to keep his concentration despite rising panic. He couldn't just tear himself away and flee back to his body; it would cause a cascade failure of the shrouds hiding his units, and the resulting electromagnetic storm might even wipe out the artificial shroud tower in this town, revealing everything to the Allied Nations and giving them a valid reason to attack his men. He took deep breaths, and began to pull back from the tank commander's eyes, but the soldiers around him pointed and shouted at flashes of light off in the distance-

**WHUMP!**

**WHUMP!**

**WHUMP!**

If Shade had been able to use his voice at that moment in time, he would have gasped in despair.

_Artillery bombardment._

_Too late…_

He concentrated and braced himself for the inevitable impact as the whistling of the shells grew louder and the soldiers panicked and shouted orders to retreat and the tank drivers worked furiously at their controls and the sandstorm whirled and whistled and-

**WHUMP-BOOOOOOOOM!**

**WHUMP-BOOOOOOOOM!**

**WHUMP-BOOOOOOOOM!**

_Contact._

_FLAAAAAASSHH!_

Everything rushed back to him in a millisecond; he was back in his body, the Command Room was in uproar, and his mind felt as if it was tearing itself apart-

"NnnggghhhAAAUUUGGHH!" Shade howled, rising from his chair and staggering forward, his body coated in crackling, sparking electricity, his eyes glowing an electric blue behind the sunglasses as his powers went haywire, sparking their way through his nerves, up his spine, and into his brain, swirling destructively and malevolently and frying every fibre of his body until-

_Thud!_

-His smoking, trembling body collapsed in a heap.

_"PARADIGM ALERT! COMMANDER SHADE HAS SUFFERED A MEDITATION INDUCED COMA AS A RESULT FROM AN UNEXPECTED ENEMY ATTACK! MEDICS ARE URGENTLY NEEDED!"_

_"PARADIGM ALERT! BACKUP COMMANDER REQUESTED VIA REMOTE LINK!"_

In the midst of the chaos, Shade was still.

And for once…he was at peace.


	5. Interlude: Aftermath

Light, colours, noises. I can sense them. All around me. Blurred, indistinct, like a screaming mural behind a sheet of frosted glass.

Weightless. Breathing. Inhale, exhale. Again and again.

Existing.

Living?

Everything fades in and out, bobbing slowly like flotsam and jetsam on the waves.

Breathe.

Breathe.

I'm being carried.

I can see them; blobs of colour and noise, moving in molasses.

Slow.

Lights moving in and out of focus and sight, sliding in from the top and down out of view.

Moving somewhere. Fast.

Distorted voices. Sound…worried.

What happened?

Think.

Breathe.

Remember…

Nothing.

It hurts to think.

It hurts to see.

It hurts to live.

I draw a blank on everything.

Hehe, drawing without a pencil. That's pretty funny.

Treacle-speed speech. Panicked.

Dark.

Light.

Just went through double doors, I think.

Ow.

Gotta remember that it hurts to think.

Clinical smell assaulting my nostrils.

I smell…burning, too.

What happened?

Did something happen to me?

Where am I?

I'm alone. Hopelessly alone. The only sound now is my heartbeat.

Beat.

Beat.

Beat.

Can't move…don't feel weightless anymore. Feel…heavy.

The parade of colour and light is fading. I can't even feel my eyelids drooping.

I can't feel anything…

Alone. Like it always has been.

I don't want to be alone…

Help…

Oh God, help me…

I don't want to be alone…

Help…

Me…

* * *

_"He's in critical condition, and his heart rate is dropping like a stone. Brain activity is lower then anything I've ever seen."_

_"He's pretty banged up, yes, I understand that Doctor. What I want to know is **can. He. Recover?**"_

_"I'm not sure, Commander Swift. It may be just something similar to a coma, or he may be brain-dead. He's been drifting in and out of consciousness during the way here, but he didn't respond to any sort of stimuli."_

_"…I understand. Please, give him the best care you can muster. I need to return to the HQ and inform the other commanders of the situation."_

_"What's going on over there anyway? Who's in charge of our counter-attack?"_

_"Cougar is. When he arrived…well, he was furious. More furious then I've ever seen him before. Which is why I want to get back there and make sure he doesn't do anything too rash."_

_"Okay, Commander. Godspeed."_

_"Thank you."_


	6. The Storm

"_One does not simply waltz into our territory without encountering a few…hungry…surprises. Ahahahaha!"_

-Lady Kindle of the Bolt Guard, a few hours before the first sightings of Oozium-238.

-R-M-R-M-R-M-R-M-

"What exactly happened?!" Cougar snarled, stalking his way down the maroon corridors of the Red Mesan forward HQ, his browny-grey windswept hair dangling down around his face. He turned to the techie that he had just snapped at, his eyes wild with barely-restrained fury. From what the Red Mesan CO had heard, the Allied Nation forces had unexpectedly opened fire, and Shade was being rushed to intensive care. The fact that the supposedly good and virtuous Allied Nations had attacked without provocation had riled him up enough; and now that he knew that a commander he respected and valued as a friend had been critically injured as a result, he was near enough boiling with anger.

"W-Well Commander," the techie stammered, running a hand through unkempt blonde hair and looking fearfully at Cougar with wide blue eyes, "Th-They opened f-fire, and-"

"God dammit, I KNOW THAT!" Cougar shouted, his roaring voice sending various passers-by scattering. "What injured Matthew so badly is what I need ta know right now!"

There was a pause as the two continued moving down the corridor, the techie having to walk briskly to keep up with Cougar's long strides.

"…It was a m-meditation-induced cerebral shock, Commander. Commander Shade was caught by surprise, and h-had no time to r-recall his electromagnetic projection." He shook his head. "It was…it was horrible to watch. He was wrapped in electricity, screaming…and then he just collapsed. I had no idea his powers could do that." The techie looked back at his superior, his head inclining to look at him due to the fact that Cougar was at least a foot taller than him. "…Sir?"

As soon as Cougar had heard the words 'meditation-induced cerebral shock', he had gasped and closed his eyes, a pained look on his tanned features. He shook his head slowly, opening his eyes and looking at the floor. "Dammit Awner…you lied to us…" He whispered to himself. Sighing, he looked back at the techie. Hopefully, he hadn't heard the whisper; some things were best left secret. "Neither did I," he replied. "Shade always kept us in the dark about his abilities…either he didn't know 'em fully, or he was hiding something from us…we'll get the truth outta him eventually, if he recovers. Right now," he said, arriving at two large mahogany doors that led to the Command Room, "I have a job to do."

"Let me hazard a guess, Sir…" the techie said. "Kicking ass?"

Cougar's stony face cracked into a fierce, slightly disturbing grin as he pushed open the doors and walked inside.

"Damn straight."

_SLAM!_

-B-C-B-C-B-C-B-C-

It was early morning in the Orange Star capital city, the greyish-blue pre-dawn light filled the sky, casting an eerie ghostlike glow over its many buildings, offices and suburbs. The streetlights were still on, their vibrant orange glow diminishing in the face of the coming sunrise, and a low mist permeated the city with its silent, soothing presence. The city was quiet and dim, with only the hushed whisper of early traffic and a few yellow squares of light in windows betraying its inhabitant's existence to the world.

One area of the city that was not so quiet was the southern industrial district, a large, sprawling expanse of grey concrete and glinting steel that hugged the Odran River, a wide, deep ribbon of water that snaked its way through the city on its lazy flow to the sea. The industrial district was never truly quiet, even in the post-midnight hours that muffled the rest of the city in a blanket of deathly silence. The various factories and other assorted buildings ran constantly, caring little for the day-night blur of the world outside the corrugated steel and red brick walls that entombed their noisy production lines.

One warehouse, a single red-brick shell inside a forest of identical counterparts, was different from the rest; its lights were not switched on, the small rectangular panes of the windows as black as obsidian. It was surrounded by its brother and sister buildings, smack dab in the middle of the group that nested in the crook of a meander carved into the landscape by the molasses-esque erosion of the river. It looked oddly out of place, even with its many identical siblings; a drop of darkness in an ocean of light, the metaphorical black sheep. It was run-down and dirty, obvious signs of long-term abandonment, and on the whole looked as if it hadn't been touched for half a decade.

But a closer look revealed small signs of life; there were several tracks of footprints leading up to and away from the double doors that serve as an entrance, and upon closer inspection, a low, amber light permeated through the structure, an indication that at least some lights inside the structure were switched on.

A look on the inside of the building told the same story. The thick layer of dust, discarded documents and random equipment scattered around like toys in a toddler's playroom screamed 'deserted'; but the areas where dust had been recently swept away to reveal the cold grey concrete underneath, the slowly strengthening light, and neatly stacked items free of the layer of dust that cakes most other objects told the truth. Only after a good long look would anyone suspect that this cold, sorry brick shell of a building was anything other than uninhabited.

Hawke liked it that way. It meant that nobody would come snooping round and discover that not only was the warehouse being occupied, but that it was currently the temporary residence of four high-ranking Black Hole CO's, with two of them wanted for war crimes, one disappearing with a very flimsy explanation, and the other thought to be dead.

Yes, the less conspicuous the better.

'_I do not want to have to do this any longer than necessary though,'_ Hawke thought, a dark black mug filled with dark black coffee in his gloved hand as he sat back in the old leather chair of what used to be the head office in the warehouse. He took a long, brooding sip of the hot liquid, reading from today's newspaper in his other hand, sighing deeply after he placed the mug on the desk in front of him. _'This is hardly my favourite kind of situation to be in. The sooner we get this all sorted out, the better…'_

"Penny for your thoughts?"

The light, youthful voice broke into, and subsequently derailed, Hawke's train of thought. The stoic Black Hole commander placed the newspaper on the desk next to his mug, and swivelled in his chair to look at the source of the voice, a shadow hanging in the corner of the office, a pale-lipped, genial smile on a face mostly in darkness save for the glint of a pair of glasses. Hawke narrowed his eyes as he looked at the newcomer.

"You're early. You're also a telepath, which means that such phrases as 'penny for your thoughts' are really quite redundant," he droned. "You could just read my mind if you so wished."

The figure waggled a finger and shook his head. "Not on the first date, Hawkester," he chuckled. "And besides, I do have _some_ ethics, and asking for permission before mind reading is a pretty important part of those ethics. I'm a watcher, not a peeping tom." He folded his arms and leant back against the wall behind him, disappearing even more into the shadows. "All jocularity and Bones McCoy references aside…did you brief those three psychopaths downstairs yet?"

Hawke nodded, turning to the desk to extricate a few stapled-together sheets of paper before turning back to the figure, handing them to him before leaning back again, his tanned face expressionless. "I covered the issues you suggested in a briefing ten minutes ago. I didn't nearly die in Von Bolt's collapsing fortress so I could sit back and procrastinate."

The figure skim read the sheets of paper, raising a shadowed eyebrow several times as he read certain lines. He nodded to himself, and tossed the sheets onto the desk, before looking at Hawke again.

"Collapsing fortresses duly noted," he said. "And you even forced Adder to take minutes of that briefing. I'm impressed. Then again, with Adder…a few threats of violence goes a long, long way."

Hawke nodded, picking up his mug and taking another long sip of coffee before putting the mud down again to speak. "Indeed. Regardless…you came here for a purpose, one which is not readily obvious to me. Explain."

"Not quite yet," the figure said lightly, raising a hand. "An explanation will come in due time, but right now I'm intrigued by a certain item on those minutes, a certain item about a certain…Red Mesa."

"Yes, I decided they should know about that," Hawke said, nodding. "The information you gave me on this desert nation has taken on a new significance." He picked up the newspaper from the desk, and showed the front page to the figure. "Look."

The shadow in the corner was silent for a few seconds. Then a long, depressed sigh hissed out from him, and he reached out, taking the newspaper from Hawke's hands and looking at it more closely.

'**ALLIED NATIONS LAUNCH ATTACK ON MYSTERIOUS NEW HOSTILES**'

'In a characteristic display of resolve and strength just hours earlier today, the Allied Nations launched a blistering attack on a recently-discovered Black Hole base in the southwest of Omega Land. This Black Hole base is a leftover from the recent war in the far-flung continent, and has only remained hidden so long from our army's rigorous reconnaissance because of a mysterious new cloaking technology that rendered them nearly undetectable to any sort of scanning. In a further example of just how far our men are willing to go to achieve peace on Wars World, the artillerymen that opened the assault fired BLIND – blanketing the enemy's front lines until the cloak failed just seconds after the shells hit.

From what scant reports we have been able to obtain, these Black Hole remnants seem to be a splinter faction – reports from the field suggest that they are coloured a deep blood red, instead of the dark grey usually associated with Black Hole. The units appear radically different too – more like our own than the alien technology usually employed by the tyrannical invaders. Worries that Allied Nations units may have mistakenly opened fire on another country have been quashed by Commander Olaf of Blue Moon, who stated that "the first time Black Hole invaded, under Sturm, they masqueraded as Orange Star by imitating their units and using a clone of Andy. Who is to say that they haven't done the same here?"

Story Continues on Page 3'

The figure's hands clenched, crumpling the edges of the newspaper, before he growled and flung it across the room. He took several deep breaths before speaking.

"Idiots…" he muttered, a hand to his forehead. "Absolute idiots. Firing blind to hit supposed enemies…somebody in the Allied Nations command over there has a bloody screw loose! And as for Olaf…that pompous ball of lard is sitting comfortably in his chair in the Blue Palace while soldiers in his country take part in the killing of innocents." He seethed, two rings of icy glowing blue appearing in place of his eyes. "I should've seen this happening…I can see across the planet! I can see into the future! And yet, this totally obvious consequence of the Allies' misinformation and recklessness simply slipped past me!"

Hawke shook his head. "The assault happened overnight in this timezone. Although you have certain…talents, you are still human, and so have to sleep sometime." He fixed his dark, emotionless grey eyes on the fierce glowing blue optics of his visitor. "Even eyes as far-reaching as yours have to rest eventually."

The figure took a breath, raising a finger as the blue glow in his eyes slowly faded into nothingness. "Actually…" he began hesitantly. Hawke raised an eyebrow in genuine surprise, something that didn't happen very often.

"Don't tell me…" Hawke droned, shaking his silver-haired head. "You don't need to sleep?"

"I _do_ need sleep," came the reply. "It's just that I've trained myself to need less of it. Kinda like Batman. Speaking of Batman…" he continued, hidden eyes glazing over as his explanation metamorphosed into a ramble, "I need to check Ebay…that replica batbelt auction's gonna finish soon." Snapping back to reality, he looked back at the dangerously narrowed eyes of Hawke. "Oh, yeah…explanation as to why I am here. Hehe…" He simpered. "Sorry, got sidetracked."

"Indeed…" Came the monotonous reply. "Now, if you would be so kind…"

The figure's shadowed head nodded, and there was a rustling of paper as he produced a few official-looking papers, and handed them to Hawke, a triumphant grin barely visible on his dim face, a satisfied sigh emanating from him.

"It's been ratified. The Black Cadre - Flak, Adder, Lash, and of course you, even though you're not featured in the paperwork due to the obvious condition of being declared missing in action – will assume command of Black Hole's territory here in Macro Land in two week's time. This agreement is only valid if the following stipulations are upheld and obeyed – stipulations," he said, wagging his finger yet again, "That you have already seen and personally given your approval…under the guise of Lash, of course. She will be the 'official' leader of Black Hole, while in reality she will be something akin to a 'puppet' leader. You will be in control of the country from beyond the grave, so to speak."

Hawke nodded, his eyes flicking back and forth as he scanned the pages in his hands, musing under his breath. "They were fair stipulations," he said. "Providing assistance to the Allied Nations when requested, Adder and Flak required to help in reconstruction efforts repairing the damage they caused rampaging around Macro Land during the Omega Land War…yes, fair enough." He paused, and looked up at the figure. "There must have been some pretty tough opposition to this bill. How did you get it ratified?"

A happy, almost manic grin flashed across the shadowed person's face. "Hawke, I can get _anything_ ratified," he said meaningfully. "Anything. Normally it goes against my morals to do such a thing, but when it's for the greater good…I can do a little _prodding_. The right touch, the right suggestion, the right word at the right time can have wonderful effects." The grin disappeared, replaced with a barely visible smirk, and Hawke nodded. The stoic commander knew how powerful manipulation could be, and coupled with talents like those employed by the person standing before him…it was slightly unnerving to know that he wielded such influence.

"Nevertheless," Hawke said, derailing his train of thought, "Adder and Flak should be being tried for war crimes. Now they're doing the military equivalent of community service. Even you couldn't have been able to change such a punishment with just words."

A chuckle came from the shadow, tinged with a happy, light tone that echoed around the room. The shadow shifted, standing up straight from his leaning position, and walked into the light. As his features became more visible, more distinct, Hawke raised an eyebrow yet again. He had only fully seen the person before him a few scant times, and he didn't show his face without good reason. Hawke's eyes drifted, noting down his appearance in case it became useful later.

He was a pale-skinned young adult, no older then nineteen, of medium height and a slim build. Icy blue eyes that glinted in the light with a childlike light resided behind half-rimmed silver glasses, a few bangs of his jet black hair lazily hanging down in front of his face, the rest barely brushing his shoulders. He was awash with blue; dark blue jeans melded with a navy t-shirt, framed by his black trainers and smiling face, wrapped in a blue cotton jacket, is hands in its pockets. There was an eerie calm about him, as if he was never worried, never troubled, and there was an unsettling confidence in his movement and posture that betrayed his seer-like abilities.

Those glacial eyes bored into Hawke's, and the blue-swathed teen kept staring as he spoke.

"When push comes to shove, Hawke…I can be very, very persuasive. Now," he said brightly, smiling and turning away from Hawke, "If you'll excuse me, I have a needless war to watch." He paused, and half-turned back towards Hawke, the bright smile still on his face.

"Just remember…if you ever need an extra pair of eyes, call your friendly neighbourhood Watcher. You know my number." He turned back to face the corner again as Hawke watched him, thinking to himself.

'_Here comes his disappearing act-'_

_Flash!_

A bright flash of blue light assaulted Hawke's eyes, and he turned his head to avoid being dazzled, shielding his eyes with his arm. When he turned back, the 'Watcher' was gone, with only the papers he had handed to Hawke, and the angrily-thrown newspaper splayed on the floor, giving any sign that he had been there. Hawke nodded to himself and leant back in his chair, his eyes glazing over as his mind began to work.

"I'll be seeing you, Watcher."

-A-N-A-N-A-N-A-N-

The Allied Nation's temporary HQ was in pandemonium, a sharp contrast to the victorious cries that had shook the haphazardly-placed tents no more than five minutes ago. Their brilliantly planned, perfectly-executed blitz of their invisible enemy had turned into a desperate, scrappy mess of a battle against an army unlike anything they had ever come up against before. After the initial artillery pounding had somehow forced what they thought was Black Hole units to decloak, the command staff were astounded to see an alien, sleek, blood-red army surge towards their forces with a ferocity unmatched by even Grimm's divisions.

The main command tent was a mess. The COs of the four countries in charge of Omega Land operations – Rachel, Sasha and Colin, Sonja and Grimm, Jess and Javier – along with Jake, the person actually leading the battle, were staring at the various battlefield monitors, confusion written on their faces. Jake was leaning on a desk, hands planted on its smooth wooden service, shaking his head as he watched live in-field battle broadcasts of their enraged enemies.

"Dudes, this makes no sense!" he said, lifting a hand up to scratch his head. "These guys…I mean…are they Black Hole? Did we just try to smackdown another bunch of guys? Because that's beyond weak."

Sonja strode up next to him, shaking her head as well, brow furrowed in a frown. "Everything pointed to Black Hole…the signals we got were a hair's breadth away from those we gleaned from prototypes retrieved from Sturm's citadel in the Macro Land War…yet this army is different to anything else." She turned back to the other COs, and started pacing back and forth, the cogs in her brilliant mind whirring. "One, they're red. That either makes them a splinter faction, or a different country that felt the need to conceal itself. Two, their unit designs are quite unique. From what I've seen, they're built for this desert climate, as we've seen no instances of mechanical failure due to sand among their units. Three, they're under the command of someone we've never fought against before." As she continued to pace back and forth in the dimly lit tent, oblivious to the carnage on the many monitors around her, Rachel opened her mouth to speak.

"This area might be under the command of a subordinate of one of the Bolt Guard. Y'know, sent here to make sure this area remains under their control, and doesn't know what to do now that the main army's been defeated."

Sonja stopped pacing, looking at Rachel and shaking her head. "I don't mean like that," she said. "Whoever's in command isn't employing the standard anti-Allies tactics we've seen before; they're just not acting like a Black Hole force should. Secondly, the enemy forces under the command of a CO." After hearing this, the COs looked at each other confusedly, until Colin piped up.

"E-Excuse me, Commander Sonja," he squeaked, "But…how do you know this?" Sonja turned to a bank of monitors close to the entrance to the tent, beckoning everyone to crowd around.

"Watch," she said, keying a few instructions into a small keypad next to the monitor bank. Several videos flashed up onto the screen, showing Allied units under attack by their mystery enemies. She froze each video at certain points, and pointed a slender finger at each screen in turn. "Roughly every seven out of ten shots, an enemy unit directly hits a weak spot on one of our units, causing considerable damage. That's too high to be a result of luck alone. Also," she continued, going through the same process with videos of Allied units under indirect fire, "More often than not, enemy indirect fire hits the strongest points on our units, causing less damage than normal. The ratio of this? Seven out of ten. _That's_ what makes me believe that we're facing an entirely unknown CO, one with unique powers."

"I see…" Rachel said, turning back to Jake, who had not come over to the monitor bank because he was busy issuing out orders to the Allied force. "Jake."

"Yo?"

"Open an audiovisual communications channel with our mystery opponents. See what we're dealing with." Jake nodded, never taking his eyes off the screens as he typed in the orders into the communications computer. The main screen, suspended from the roof of the tent above the desk that Jake was working at, flickered into life, showing a placeholder image of the Allied Nations logo as it sent out a hailing signal. After a few seconds, the screen flashed up confirmation of a reply, and changed to show a circular, dark red room, filled with computers banks along its walls, with a command chair on a raised pedestal in the centre. Technical staff in white coats with red trim were sat at the computers, a few milling about or making announcements over a tannoy system. But that was not what the Allied COs were paying attention to. Sat in the centre of the room, on the command chair, was a man.

This man was extremely well-built, at least seven feet tall, with wild browny-grey hair hanging down past his shoulders. He was clad in a worn, dark brown trenchcoat, with a dark red t-shirt and faded grey jeans peeking out from under the maroon clothing. Stone grey eyes glared at them with muted hatred.

"Well well well…" he growled, rising up out of his chair as the room he was in fell silent. "Look who finally tried ta communicate instead of rushing in all guns blazing. How's the whole 'killin' innocents' thing workin' out for ya?"

"What in the world…" Rachel breathed, moving across the room to stand next to Jake. "Who are you?"

The man smirked. "You can call me Cougar, direct-combat specialist of the Red Mesan Army. I'm in command of the guys currently kickin' your sorry butts." He flashed an animalistic grin. "For the record, it's extremely enjoyable, considering that you kicked this all off and gave us a reason to fight back."

"B-But…" Rachel stammered, as the rest of the COs stared at Cougar, some curious, some angry. "We…we thought-"

"You thought we were Black Hole," Cougar snarled, cutting across her and rendering her silent. "So you blitzed us with an artillery strike without even trying to talk. That's pissed us off. But ya know what the worst part is?" he asked, walking up to the screen, his figure filling most of the view, his voice rising in volume and anger. "That very same artillery strike nearly killed Commander Shade, our leader. He's in hospital right now in a coma, his brain signals are flatlining, and our soldiers are getting' killed out there for no other reason than your PIG-HEADED STUPIDITY!"

The Allied COs were silent, the implications of what they had done finally hitting them. After taking several deep breaths to calm himself, Cougar spoke again, in a low, dangerous voice that confirmed their fears.

"Your mistake has cost lives needlessly, and will continue to cost lives. We sure as hell didn't ask for this war…but we're sure as hell gonna end it. Close channel." Cougar turned his back on the Allied COs as the screen winked out, and they all looked at each other, shocked. After a few seconds, Jess said what they were all thinking.

"…What have we done…"


	7. Bedsides and Beverages

"_So…this new guy. What do you think of him?"_

"_The same as everybody else, Swift. That he's not all there. The uncontrollable shaking and terrified rambling, you know, indicate as such."_

"_Ha ha bloody ha, Victor. I meant his abilities. Y'know, the whole…"_

"_Ah, yes, that. Well, they're certainly unique, and clearly very powerful. I don't think they're really natural._

"_You think they've been enhanced somehow?"_

"_That would be my suspicion, yes. They certainly seem too strong to have come about naturally; even Hawke cannot wield his abilities on such a wide range of scales, even though his power is equal to our guest's. However, our time grows short, and we must concern ourselves with other events. Sleep, for example."_

_  
"…Yes. Goodnight, Victor."_

"_And the same to you, Swift."_

-R-M-R-M-R-M-R-M-

_Beep._

_Kshhhhhhhhk._

_Beep._

_Kshhhhhhhhk._

_Beep._

_Kshhhhhhhhk._

The rhythmic beep of the electrocardiograph filled the tense silence of the room, the _kshhhhhhhhk_ of the respirator following afterwards, sounding again and again as it fed much-needed oxygen into the lungs of Matthew Awner, a stone-dead body swathed in white hospital bed sheets. The desperate red of the evening sun that shone through the window opposite to the end of his bed bathed him in a bloody scarlet light, his pale face almost the same hue as the sheets. Dark brown hair was splayed over his pillow and down the sides of his face, a glossy halo of brown fibres, like a pool of melted chocolate. Everything was an ethereal white in the room; the white tiled lino, the white walls and ceiling, the white curtains, currently parted, swaying slightly in the breeze from the blurring blades of the ceiling fan.

Two figures sat by the bed of Matthew Awner, silent, anxious. Both were female, one at least a foot taller than the other. The taller, a young woman called Tatania, was looking down at the prone form of Matthew, a look of deep concern on her face. Her tall, svelte frame and long, glossy black hair, framing a pale face with sky blue eyes, contrasted with the person beside her. She was called Carla; a petite woman with short blonde hair, vivid green eyes shining with a natural mischievous light, like two emeralds set in the eye sockets of her tanned face. She was peering at the ECG by Matthew's beside, a look of intense curiosity on her face. Both women wore very different clothes; Tatania preferred her sky blue t-shirt and white, floaty, ankle-length dress, while Carla was clad in a white t-shirt under a worn denim jacket, accompanied by faded denim jeans.

The silence dragged on.

The monitor beeped, and the respirator hissed.

At least five minutes passed before Tatania finally turned to her friend, a frown furrowing her brow.

"_Why_ are you staring at the heart monitor like that?!" she said, causing the blonde to break her gaze away from the machine to look at her. "Please don't tell me-"

"I wanna take it apart to see how it works," the blonde said, grinning despite herself. Tatania sighed, running her temples with her slender fingers.

"I knew you'd say that, Diesel."

"Well? Can I?" 'Diesel' said, almost bouncing in her seat with eagerness, her eyes bright with anticipation. Tatania ground her teeth, a vein throbbing in her temple. Carla was just too curious about technology sometimes. Sure, it came in handy considering she led Red Mesa's R&D, as well as being the resident tech-based CO of the Army, but sometimes…

"No." Tatania's answer was short and sweet.

"Aww…but Swiiiiiift…"

'Swift' glared. "When I say no, I mean NO," she said simply. "Not only is it a vital piece of medical equipment, it is currently hooked up to Commander Shade!" Just to push her point home, she jabbed her index finger in the direction of their unconscious superior, who was none the wiser to their squabble.

Diesel pouted. "Oh, fine. Although, technically, it's _General_ Shade."

Swift raised an eyebrow, her head leaning to the side quizzically. "Has Victor finally retired officially, then?" she asked. General Henry Victor was a good friend of hers; many times had the young air specialist and the elderly leader talked, joked and assisted the other in times of need, hence why she was so interested.

"Yeah," Diesel said, nodding. "The whole ceremony of passing on the title and whatnot's waiting until this war with the Dumbass – I mean, _Allied_ Nations – is over. But, for all intents and purposes, good ol' Mr Awner here-" Diesel jerked a thumb at Shade's frail form "-is a General. It's amazing, really…" she said, looking at his pale features inquisitively, "Someone so new to the Army, becoming our leader in such a short time."

Swift bit her lip. "I…I may know something about that." Diesel's gaze snapped to her.

"Whatever it was, he sure as hell didn't tell us. Care to elaborate?"

"Victor always said he had a solid reason for promoting Shade so quickly," Swift said, her eyes downcast and surprisingly guilty. "He never said what it was, exactly…"

Her voice trailed off, and the hospital room lapsed into an uneasy silence. Diesel looked away, realising that Victor had trusted Swift and Swift alone with this information, and that she had pushed too hard in trying to find out. A few awkward seconds passed, and Diesel opened her mouth to apologise-

"_He said…I had…unusual…potential…"_

A quiet, strained, whispery voice broke the silence, emanating from behind the mask that was on Shade's face. A face whose eyes were now open…tired, dull, but still open. Swift and Diesel both gasped, Swift's turning into an expression of pure joy before she regained her composure. As they opened their mouths to speak, he weakly raised a hand, silencing them.

"_Hang on…strength's starting…to come back…"_ he breathed, his eyes becoming brighter and more alert by the second. _"Seems this…is easier to recover from…than a true coma."_ He took a deep breath, and shifted upwards in his bed, sitting half-upright, wincing slightly as twinges of pain shot through his frail frame. Swift and Diesel sat anxiously, ready to assist if he needed it, but he shook his head and smiled.

"_Don't worry…"_ he said, breathing deeply and calmly. _"I'm leeching off the power cables…in the walls to strengthen myself; holding myself up…partly by electromagnetic repulsion."_ He paused, taking the oxygen mask off his face, looking towards the wall to his left, where a one-way mirror was set into the wall. "The doctor will know I've awakened, but he will most likely…respect our privacy until you two have left." He coughed, doubling over slightly. Swift leaned over to help him, her face one of concern, but he waved her off, settling back into his pillows, waiting a few seconds before speaking again. "So. Get me up to speed."

Swift and Diesel both tried to simultaneously explain the events of the past two weeks.

"You suffered a meditation induced coma due to-" Swift began.

"The Allied Nations decided to blitz us-" Diesel said, both women looking at each other before continuing to ramble.

"Cougar was really pissed, never seen him that mad-"

"It's war officially, the public are mad that the Allies could do something like this-"

"I managed to jump in the ambulance that was taking you to hospital, was terrified you were dead-"

"Your approval rating has jumped to eighty percent, absolutely amazing-"

"Spoke with Doctor Emmerich as they brought you in, told them to give you the best care-"

"Cougar absolutely trashed them, they were freaked out enough after the shroud failed-"

It was here that Shade decided to butt in. "Wait," he said, eyes narrowing slightly, "The city shroud _failed?_"

Diesel nodded. "Right after you went 'bzzzzt'. Guess it was some sorta fallout from it; all the shrouds on your units went, all at once, and well, added to the storm of electromagnetism from that whole meditation-coma stuff, it's no wonder the city's shroud went down."

Shade nodded, the gears in his mind starting to turn. He looked at Swift. "How did Cougar handle the battle?"

"Brilliantly," Swift replied, flashing a smile. "Capitalised on their confusion and tore them apart in a week. They never made it within half a mile of the city."

"Casualties?"

"Minimal," Swift said. "Anyway," she continued, fixing Shade with a piercing glare that made his heart stop. "An explanation, please."

Shade closed his eyes, subconsciously biting his lip. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Swift kept glaring. "Did you know how dangerous your remote viewing was?"

Silence. Shade cracked an eye open and looked at her, the fearful look in his eye betraying him.

Swift's eyes narrowed dangerously, and Diesel took this as a clue to step back. She did so, rising up out of her chair and backing up to the wall behind her, ready to cringe. She knew how Swift could be when she found out the others had been putting themselves in unnecessary danger.

"Well?"

Shade's eyes opened fully, and he grimaced. "…Yeah. I knew it could do this."

Swift blanched, mouthed wordlessly, before blurring her hand forwards-

_SMACK!_

Diesel cringed. She didn't think Swift would actually _do it…_

"OW! Ow ow ow ow!" Shade wailed, gingerly touching the bright red cheek Swift had slapped. "You slapped me!"

"You're absolutely impossible!" Swift half-shouted, her hands balled into fists, although a rueful grin played about her lips. "Do you have any idea how much I've worried?! How much _we've_ worried?! Agh…you…I mean…just…argh!" Swift said, throwing her hands up. "You're just…impossible!" she paused, before looking back down at Shade. "And yes, I know you're my superior and all, but you deserve that."

Much to her surprise, Shade nodded, a rueful grin on his face too. "But..it all worked out in the end, right?" he said anxiously. "No more reason for slapping me!"

"I dunno…" Diesel said, sidling up next to Swift, a playful smile on her face. "I mean, his right cheek's red. Might as well make the left one match too."

Shade shook his head, mouthing 'NO' over and over, while Swift thought. Eventually though, she shook her head, eliciting a pout from Diesel.

"No. You've had enough, I think. Unless you do something stupid like that again."

"So…no slappage?"

"No."

"Phew," Shade said, leaning back into his pillows and closing his eyes in relief. "Once was bad enough. You slap pretty hard, Swift."

"I've had practice…"

"On whom?"

"Bad boyfriends."

Shade flinched, his eyes opening while he grimaced. "Ow. Wouldn't like to date you, one slap is enough. Not that I'm a bad boyfriend or anything…"

Swift raised an eyebrow at that particular comment, but ignored it. _'Something to inquire about later…'_ she thought, a smile playing about on her lips. Diesel raised a finger, her lips pursing as she remembered something.

"Ooh! Forgot to say earlier…" she said, looking at Shade. "Try and test the limits of your powers…Doctor said to try to get you to exercise them, see how they'll recover with time."

Shade nodded, raising a hand up to the ceiling. "Let's see what I can do…" he said, clenching is hand into a fist. He concentrated, willing his powers on, being careful not to push himself too much.

_Bzzzz-zzt-zzt-zt!_

"Aha!" Shade shouted, a smile on his face as he watched blue sparks dance around his clenched fist. "We have power. Now, to see if I can…" his voice trailed off, and he opened his hand, his palm thrust upwards. He closed his eyes.

"Come on…" he hissed, lazily sending his arm in small circles. Diesel and Swift looked around them as, one by one, the electrical equipment in the room started to stutter. The light flickered, the ceiling fan slowed intermittently, and the ECG's graph started wavering and jumping randomly. Shade opened his eyes, a triumphant grin on his features as he lowered his hand and cancelled the effect, all the electrical equipment returning to their normal state.

"So…some electrical generation and electromagnetic interference…" he said, mostly to himself. "That's a good start." He looked back up at Diesel and Swift. "Now, there's something I want to ask. I was going to say it sooner, but Swift decided it was a good time to slap me." Said Swift smiled apologetically, and motioned for him to continue.

"Thank you…anyway, as I was saying. You said Cougar defeated the Allied Nations within a week of the battle starting. Now, judging from this calendar next to my bed," he said, jerking a thumb at the calendar hanging next to the head of his bed, "It's been two weeks since I went into the coma. That leaves us with a week after the battle wherein you should have been keeping tabs on Allied Nations movements. Have you?"

Diesel nodded. "As best we can without the benefit of invisible scouts," she said, looking pointedly at Shade. "As far as we can tell, they've retreated back out of the desert for now, back to their main base…wherever that is, as we've been unable to locate it. They have three targets to pick for their next assault; basically, the city they previously got beaten at, or the two cities within a 20-mile radius that got affected by the fallout of the shroud failure in _this_ city, and can be easily detected." She looked at Swift. "Wonder what they're doing."

"Yeah…" Swift said, her eyes trailing into nothingness, her gaze unfocused. "Probably planning their next attack in retribution of our victory over them…I doubt they'd party like they usually do, given that's only after big victories. They're probably planning it out in such detail they can't even go for a casual drink, let alone party."

-A-N-A-N-A-N-A-N-

The Social area of the Maxwell Scar Allied Nations base was usually the place to be for all the higher-ups in the Allied Nations Army. It was a luxurious, oak-and-leather maelstrom of a bar, with only the best furniture, pool tables, darts boards, and other assorted leisure items. The bar was a large hemispherical room, with the bar as one long continuous strip along the flat side of the room. It was, as several COs had put it, heaven.

"Eww, Jake! Just what is _in_ that drink? It looks lethal."

"Hey, don't be dissin' my Seven Sugar Supreme, Rach. It's got fruc-tose and su-crose, but most is glucose!"

"Jake, that is decidedly one of the worst rhymes I have ever heard," Sasha said, smiling as she held her cup of tea. "Coming from me, of all people…"

"I agree wholeheartedly," Rachel said, taking a sip from her glass of mineral water. "Natural spring freshness all the way. It's a good thing they serve it here," she continued, looking over to the bar. "Or at least, that cute barman brings some. I swear he knows exactly what we want to drink tonight. It's like he can read our minds."

Jake and Sasha followed her gaze, looking at the bar. Situated behind it was a young man clothes in blue, no older than nineteen, washing and drying glasses. His icy blue eyes (behind silver-rimmed glasses) were focused on the pint glass in one hand, and his towel in the other. As they watched, he reached a hand up to brush his shoulder-length, jet black hair away from his face, and continued his task of drying the glass. Jake and Sasha looked back at Rachel, whose gaze eventually drifted away from the barman back to them.

"I've never seen him here before…" Sasha said, confusion on her features. She looked back, studying him inquisitively over the rims of her reading glasses, taking a sip of her tea. He looked oddly…confident, and he seemed to move with a calm, fluid grace that was very disconcerting. And did he have…was he glowing a soft blue? Sasha rubbed her eyes and shook her head, turning away from the barman and back to her fellow COs. They were sat on three plush armchairs, situated around a small circular table.

"Anyway, back to what we were supposed to be talking about," Rachel said, placing her glass on the table and leaning back. "Red Mesa's COs."

"They're wack."

"You can't say that, Jake, we've only seen one of them," Sasha said, rolling her eyes. "One…rather vicious…CO does not give us an accurate picture of all of them."

"That's another thing," Rachel said, folding her arms and leaning back in her chair, "We don't know how many COs they have. That's another thing we'll find out, I guess…"

"There must be a hot chick," Jake said, gazing into space. "Wonder if she's blonde…"

"JAKE!" Both girls shouted in unison. They paused, looked at each other, and then looked back at Jake. "Like you'd even have a chance, anyway," Rachel said, smirking. "Way outta your league."

"Not to mention we're currently at war with them," Sasha added with a rare grin.

"But we've only fought one battle," Jake interjected. "We got owned badly. Now we're just sittin' here waitin' for enough reinforcements to attack the same place again? Pretty weak if you ask me."

"Actually…" Rachel said, leaning forward and looking at the other two COs. "We're not going back to that city. Sonja has picked up other signals similar to the ones that led us here; she believes that whatever caused their invisibility to fail must have affected the same sort of technology in neighbouring cities. So, we pick a target from one of those instead. Once we have enough troops ready, we'll move out."

"And how long will that be?" Sasha asked. "If we wait too long, this 'Red Mesa' will get suspicious."

"I'd say about a week," Rachel answered, looking at them both. "…Yeah. Definitely. The next attack will be launched in the coming week. The target I've yet to choose, but the time is set."

Jake smirked, lifting his bottle up and downing it in one go. "Ya hear that, Red Mesa fools?" he said to nobody in particular. "You got a week until we bounce on down and knock you out!"


	8. Heavy On His Heart

"_My Lord, Prisoner 230888 escaped in the early hours of this morning."_

"…_WHAT?!"_

"_Adder was in charge of the security at the time, but he had limited manpower to work with, given your order of sending as many men to the front lines as possible-"_

"_I do not care, Hawke! So many failures from you and your ilk! Recapture him at once!"_

"_I have already tried, my Lord. A Recon squad caught up with him not an hour ago, but was ambushed by the Allies' advance guard. He simply disappeared in the confusion."_

"…_There will be consequences for this, worm. Regroup at the Death Ray installation, and tell Lash that the missile's launch will have to be pushed forward. After we push back the Allies, I will devise a fitting punishment for this immense failure."_

"…_As you wish, my Lord."_

-R-M-R-M-R-M-R-M-

He looked behind him, his eyes turning from the security checkpoint in front of him to view the city behind him – the city that had birthed him, raised him, made him who he was. Its name was Iseba.

Iseba was the capital city of Red Mesa. A gargantuan metropolis that stretched out into the desert like a crimson beehive of activity and life in the harsh landscape, hundreds of sleek skyscrapers punching out from the ground in an attempt to reach the heavens. Threads of its ultra-modern high-speed transport network wove their way through the canyons of concrete and steel, ferrying its citizens to and fro, akin to blood vessels in a living organism. The man smiled, curved lips hidden under a silvery handlebar moustache, and turned to look back at the checkpoint in front of him, until something caught his eye, a massive monolith breaking out of the skyline. Grey eyes narrowed and peered at it intently.

It was easily five hundred metres in height, a massive maroon monolith that resembled Cleopatra's Needle, save the pyramidal point at the very top. The point was replaced by what looked like a massive white crystal, lit up by an eerie glow from inside. The man knew that it wasn't a crystal, though; there wasn't a deposit of that particular crystal large and pure enough to form the diffraction system. No, it was an immense lattice of high-precision reinforced glass coupled with a superconducting network that sat on the apex of the tower. And if he looked hard enough, he could see another off in the distance, the same glow emanating from the top. These towers were the system that had kept his country hidden for so long; the Shroud Towers, throwing an invisible veil between them and the outside world. People on the outside of the field would see what the towers had been configured to show them, but inside the field was Iseba in all its glory. There were five of these normal towers, arranged around the city as the points of a pentagon, and in the very centre stood the Titan Tower. The old man couldn't see the immense structure from his position, near to the ground, but he knew it was a seven-hundred-and-fifty metre tall testament to Red Mesan engineering, the most powerful Shroud Tower they had ever constructed, made specifically to help hide the capital city.

The smile left the man's face, and he turned back towards the security checkpoint, the first of many. In front of him stood a set of metal doors twice as high as he was, somewhere in the region of twelve feet, and at least two metres thick. To his right was the security station, a myriad of detection and scanning equipment pointed at him behind a dome of reinforced glass, and a Red Mesan OMI operative sitting at the computer bank behind another window.

The old man rolled his eyes and chuckled. Trust Awner to install them here so quickly. OMI – the Office of Military Intelligence – was a recent addition to the Red Mesan Army, having only been formed two years ago. They were an idea put forward and led by Shade, who had recently joined the command staff, noticing a lack of dedicated intelligence personnel. Commonly called 'spooks', they specialised in intelligence operations, espionage, and had recently taken over internal security matters, hence their presence here. The man welcomed their presence here; they were highly trained and loyal, although the knowledge that there were hundreds of plain-clothes operatives all over the world, indistinguishable from a normal civilian, worried him somewhat. Still, it gave them one of the best intelligence networks in the world, so he couldn't really complain.

"Good afternoon, Sir," The spook said, his voice coming from the loudspeaker placed above the window. "Any particular purpose for this visit?"

The man shook his head. "Just a normal visit; I like keeping tabs on things," he said. His voice was strong and firm, but not overbearing or loud. "And don't call me Sir," he said, chuckling. "I'm retired now, remember?"

A grin appeared on the young face of the spook, a hand scratching the short ginger hair on his head. "General Shade told us that you still deserve immense respect, even if you have retired, Sir. After all, you practically saved the whole country during the Civil War."

The man shrugged. "I did my duty. Chancellor Iscariot had to be stopped." He sighed as the memories flooded back, and he shook his head to forget them again. "Could I go in now, please?"

The spook jumped and grimaced. "S-Sorry Sir. Let me just key in the code…" he punched a few buttons on the console in front of him, and the metal doors started to grind their way open, sliding into the walls of the military bunker. After they had finished opening (and the loud, metallic groaning noise had finally ceased), the spook saluted. "I've let checkpoints A through J know you're coming, so you shouldn't have to wait for their doors to open. Have a nice day Sir."

The old man saluted, and walked onwards into the downward-slanting, cavernous tunnel before him. The doors ground shut behind him, cutting off the natural light that managed to penetrate inside, leaving him with the dim glow of the fluorescent strips set into the ceiling. Signs were set onto the wall at regular intervals, offering directions to various other sections within this gargantuan installation, often indicating to the reader that they should turn off into other tunnels that branched off from the main one. He continued on the straight course of the main tunnel, the sound of his footfalls and quiet breathing echoing over and over, the distant groan of opening doors off in the dimly lit distance. The minutes seemed to blur by in the deathly still space, until the man arrived at a security checkpoint not unlike the one that stood like a sentinel, back at the yawning mouth of the tunnel. A massive letter 'A' was stamped on the wall to his left, the armoured box that housed the guard on his right. In front of him, the massive metal doors had already opened, the source of the groaning noise that had reached his ears earlier. The guard saluted.

"Got the message from Main Entrance, Sir," came the voice of the guard through the speakers. "Checkpoint B has begun opening its doors, and C is just about to. I'll close mine as soon as you go through; security has been upped here considerably since the start of the war. We've got several Shrikes posted around the tunnels thanks to the presence of several command staff here today."

The man frowned. "Several? What do you mean?"

"Well, there's yourself of course," the guard said, his eyes glancing down to check the records on his computer screen. "Commander Swift has also recently arrived; she's checking the battle records we have on the Allied CO 'Eagle'. She's also given us a message for you."

The man raised a silver-haired eyebrow. "Oh really?"

"Yeah," the guard said, typing away. "It says:

'_We haven't had one of our chats in a long time, Henry. We need to catch up on things, and I know you're coming here later today, so why not talk? From, Tatania.'_"

The guard looked up. "I didn't know you and Swift were on first name terms…"

'Henry' smiled. "Let's just say that I was there when her father was not, and leave it at that."

The guard nodded, not wishing to pry. "Okay then. I also have a short message from someone named 'Lancer'."

Henry stiffened slightly, understanding who the message was from, and what it was about. "Go ahead."

"He says that…that it was survival of the fittest, and that they were the fittest…most of them, at least." The guard frowned. "I have no idea what he's on about."

Henry grimaced. "I do," he said. "Only command staff and OMI operatives with a clearance of Level Beta or above would understand. I wouldn't pay it any mind if I were you."

The guard nodded, fully knowing that he wasn't supposed to understand. "Okay then Sir. As for the other command staff…Commander Cougar was here in the morning too, viewing recordings of the Essen City battle."

Henry was lost for a second. "Essen City? That was…that was the battle that started this war, wasn't it? The one where Shade was injured…" he nodded. "Yes, yes, that was the one. Mr. Hawking probably wants to relive the joy of bringing such destruction to them…typical of him really." He smiled, and walked on forward through the doors, saluting to the guard as he passed, who returned the salute. "It's nice to know OMI is on top of things, anyway. Good afternoon!"

"Same to you Sir!" the guard called, as the metal doors began to close again. Henry continued his progress down the tunnel, these new titbits of information going around in his head. Shrikes being posted in the tunnels meant he had nothing to fear; they were OMI's most successful operatives – mainly because they were so well-trained as to be indistinguishable from a normal civilian or soldier. They could be anyone, especially now that more people were appearing around him…he must be getting closer to his destination. As he passed through more security checkpoints, each designated by a letter, he saw more soldiers, technical staff, and officers enter, exit, and walk along the same tunnel as his. The fact that any one of them could be a Shrike and he wouldn't be able to tell didn't unnerve him; the fact they even existed sang OMI's praises and made him feel he had left the country in safe hands. He smiled, and came to a stop in front of Checkpoint J, the last checkpoint on his journey. The guard said nothing, but smiled and saluted, keying in the code and watching as the door opened, slowly and painfully, revealing a woman standing behind it, an amused smile on her face.

"Welcome to The Red Mesan Military Archives, Victor," she said in a singsong voice. "Is this your first time here?"

"Swift…" Victor sighed, running a wrinkled hand through what remained of his grey hair, smiling despite himself.

"Perhaps you would like a tour?"

"Swiiiiiiift…"

"Also feel free to stop by our gift shop later on for some memorable souvenirs-"

"SWIFT." Victor was looking at her sternly, hands on hips, his moustache twitching slightly, half from exasperation and half from trying to hide a smile.

"Hehehehe," Swift giggled. "You get all stern and fatherly when I annoy you." She offered him her arm. "Where are you off to?"

"Wha- I- Well- _Fatherly?_" Victor stammered, nonetheless hooking his arm onto the one offered to him and walking off with Swift. "W-Well, I guess fatherly is correct, what with the whole 'father I never had' thing…"

"It's true though," Swift said softly, leading Victor down the tunnel to three pairs of double doors. "You were there…when _he_ wasn't," her voice almost boiling with bitterness on the word 'he'. Victor stopped them both, unhooked his arm and placed a hand on her shoulder, his eyes full of understanding.

"I know," he said, voice full of conviction. Swift smiled sadly, nodding mostly to herself, before dragging herself away from her memories and opening one of the doors for Victor. "Are you here to view the records of a certain someone?" she said, entering after the venerable ex-CO.

"Yes…" Victor said, looking around the enormous room they had just entered, and shivering slightly at a sudden drop in temperature. "Blasted air conditioning. I know it's here to keep the databanks running properly, but damned if it doesn't give me a cold every single time I visit."

The room was essentially a gigantic hall full of hundreds of aisles of computer servers, every row given a different designation or letter. The room was clinical, white and tiled, kept as clean and cool and dust-free as possible to help keep technical maintenance down as much as possible. Still, there was so much data stored in the Military Archives that it necessitated thirty full-time techies to keep things running.

"At least it's better than the old Archives," Swift said. "That was a giant library with enough filing problems to kill an Oozium. A pile in Section 555-BRET collapsed near me once; I almost drowned in a sea of paper. And oh God, the paper cuts!" she shuddered. "This is much better."

"Indeed," Victor said, shuddering at the thought. "Right. Section 23-AW, here we come," he said brightly, setting off down the rows of servers, Swift in tow. Half a minute of silence passed between them before conversation arose again, aisles moving past them like a procession of monoliths.

"So, how does it feel, not having the responsibilities of leadership anymore?" Swift asked. "I have to say, I was surprised that you chose Shade as your successor. Everyone had their money on Cougar. There was quite a lot of angry people at the bookies on _that_ day, let me tell you."

Victor laughed. "Trust me, it's quite relaxing not having to worry about matters of state," he said, closing his eyes with a smile. "I still keep up to date with things, get reports and such, but these days I mostly just relax…and keep an eye on events, especially pertaining to my successor." He opened his eyes again, expertly dodging to the side to let a techie pass, his arms full of cables. "As for why I chose him…I hate to say it yet again, but that's between us. I have full faith in his abilities as a leader."

"He woke up yesterday, you know," Swift said, an eyebrow raised.

"Really? That's very good to hear."

"I slapped him."

"That's very bad to hear."

"He deserved it, being such a reckless…"

"Jerk?" Victor's mouth was twisted in a smile.

"I wouldn't put it that harshly…I just worry about him." Swift looked down, her expression hard to read. Victor nodded.

"We all do, Tatania," Victor said softly. "Although I wonder why you worry about him more than you do with, say, Cougar or Diesel. I know you were the one who found him out there…"

Swift nodded. "I've seen him at his worst, and it was…it was horrible. I honestly do not want to see him like that again."

Victor nodded. "I understand completely."

"…Why do you trust him?" The question came suddenly, as if Swift had been holding it in for some time. It threw Victor off-balance, and he spent precious silent seconds thinking of what to say.

"…You'll all know why when the time is right," he said softly, slightly uncomfortable as Swift fixed him with a piercing stare. "I…I can't break the promise I made him." He shook his head as Swift kept on staring for over a minute in silence, until he sighed.

"Alright, alright. I can't bear having you look at me like that." He grumbled to himself, while Swift's eyes widened in surprise. She didn't think she'd actually get Victor to divulge anything.

"As much as he wants to keep it secret, Matthew needs his companions, now more than ever. I will tell you only a few things." He took a breath, and began.

"Firstly, as to why he only confided in me…he wants to forget. Shade has had horrible, inhuman things done to him in the past, and he just wants to leave it all behind." His face was grim; already, Swift looked worried, even shocked.

"But…what sort of things?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"I can't say; it's maximum security information; if anyone ever found out about what happened to him, it would be a valuable psychological tool to use against him. If they knew what he was subjected to, they could break him, in mind and spirit. I can say one thing however. You've never seen him without those sunglasses of his, have you?"

"…No, I haven't," Swift said, slightly surprised she hadn't noticed before. "Even when its night time and pitch black outside, he's never once taken them off…"

"You must never tell a word of this to anyone, and you must act like you don't know what I'm going to tell you," Victor said, his voice low and deadly serious. "Understand?"

"I understand."

"He never takes them off because he doesn't want himself or anyone to see his eyes. They're a ghostly white, Swift, no pupils…he's clinically blind."

Swift was silent, her face frozen in a mask of horrified shock. Blind? All this time, and she hadn't even suspected a thing!

"Oh my God…blind…but…but how does he-"

"Hide it so well?" Victor interrupted. "He doesn't see like we do, Swift. His powers let him 'see' electromagnetic fields; machinery, electric currents, the natural magnetic field of the earth, the bioelectrical fields produced by the nervous system. He told me once that, although he couldn't see…he could 'see'. A sea of fire, he called it." He sighed and rubbed his temples, while Swift shook her head in disbelief. She looked at Victor, her sky blue eyes full of fear and doubt.

"How could anyone do something like that…" she whispered.

"I can't say any more than that," Victor said heavily. "I'm already in breach of three secrecy laws by telling you what little I have." His pace slowed, and he stopped altogether at a signpost informing them they were now in Section 23-AW. Victor turned to Swift, placing his hands on her shoulders and staring at her.

"You must not speak a word of this, Tatania," he said urgently. "OMI has Shrikes in the building." Swift's eyes widened in shock; she obviously hadn't heard about the increased security. Victor pressed on. "They could be anyone, anyone at all, and if they find out I've told you this, they would have no choice but to place us both under arrest. The scandal would be immense, and I shudder to think what it would do to Shade. We have enough on our hands right now, what with the war and all that."

"I…I understand, Henry," Swift stuttered, her eyes flitting back and forth, suspicious of everyone who was anywhere near them.

"Do you?" he demanded. "There is a lot more at stake right now, Tatania, more than I can possibly tell you. Can you stay silent?"

After half a minute of silence, Swift looked down, nodding softly. Victor took his hands off her shoulders, and looked around. This area of the Archives was sparsely populated, but there was still the chance…

"I-I have to go," Swift managed to say, her eyes downcast. "The analysts predict that the Watt Peninsula is the Allies' next target; an aerial attack is likely. I need to review the recordings we have of Allied airforce operations, and dig up some information on the commander they call 'Eagle'. Goodbye…_отец_," she said, adding the last word softly and quietly. And then she was gone, leaving the aged CO alone with his thoughts. He shook his head, and retreated into the space between the rows of databanks, a few whispered words left for no one to hear save himself.

"I wish I could say…so heavy on my heart…"


	9. Radio GaGa

"…_H-Hello? I-Is someone there?"_

"…_runawayfarawaysofartheycan'tfollow…"_

"_Who's there?"_

"_-ohgodthechainsthechainstheyalwaysholdmegottarunawaynottheneedles notagainpleasegodnowhyWHYnoNONoNonOnOhelpmeplease-"_

"_What in the world…oh my god."_

"_-ithurtsmakeitstopburningthemaskthemaskwhyareyoudoingthisstopstopstop-"_

"_Victor, this is Swift! Get an air ambulance out here NOW!"_

"_-whyareyoudoingthiswhymenomoreIwon'thelphyouIwon'tyouhearme?!_

_stopitstopitstopitstopitSTOPITlo-lo-losingmyselfhehehehecan'tholdme!_

_nothingonearthcanhahahahehehehehhahahHAHAHAHAHAHAAAA!!"_

-A-N-A-N-A-N-A-N-

The bar of the Maxwell Scar Base's Social Area was quiet as this time of night, the midnight blue sky outside betraying the lateness of the hour. Rachel cast her eyes around the room, taking in once more the reddish-brown mahogany furniture, the dark black leather upholstery crawling over it like obsidian skin. Her brown eyes roved further afield, looking out a nearby window at the dark sky outside, noting the clear, pale radiance of the full moon set against the dark tapestry of the sky. A turn of the head to the right placed the wall clock in the way of her gaze, the glowing red digital display telling her it was ten minutes past eleven. She'd been working on the battleplans for their attack on a nearby peninsula for the last five hours, while the other COs either trained on the War Room System or had already left to oversee the final phases of the construction of their staging base.

She was seated at the bar itself, nursing a pounding headache that was a symptom of her line of work. Rather than take the option that some of the older COs did and drink alcohol, Rachel combated the assault on her head with mineral water and paracetamol. She didn't trust drink; it made her giggly and talkative. A little _too_ talkative, sometimes; being the leader of the Omega Land division of the Allied Nations, she couldn't risk blurting out secrets…or her real feelings concerning a few people. Her head resting on her right hand, the other hand running a slender finger around the rim of the glass she was drinking from, she sighed. The barman, seemingly busy cleaning a glass, glanced sideways at her, his ice blue eyes impassive.

"Penny for your thoughts?" he said, setting the glass and dishcloth down and taking a seat across the bar from her. Rachel looked up at him, her expression tired and wan.

"Thoughts? Right now my brain hurts so much there's not much room left for thinking," she groaned. "You've got it easy, y'know? You just run the bar here; I have to run the Allied Nations."

The barman smirked, taking off his silver-rimmed glasses and polishing them with his blue jacket. "That's quite an interesting view, actually…"

Rachel raised an eyebrow curiously. "And what do you mean by that?" she asked. The barman looked from left to right, his expression becoming more serious, before he spoke in a low voice.

"Has Sonja ever told you about the information brokers she consults?" he murmured, eyes constantly moving to check nobody was watching them or listening in. Rachel's eyes narrowed slightly.

"Yes, she has…" she said, staring at him shrewdly. "When her own intel fails, which isn't that often, yes, she uses them. Phantoon, Adjutant, people like that. Hackers, people who buy, sell, and deal in information."

The barman smiled, tucking back his black hair behind his ears. "Did she ever tell you of a very special one she often corresponds with?" Rachel looked at him weirdly.

"Y-Yeah, one called-"

"The Watcher?" the barman said, his smile ever-present. Rachel's confusion deepened.

"How did you know that?" she said. "It's classified, I'm the only person who knows she corresponds with these people, and you're…just a…barman," she continued, her voice trailing off as a thought hit her. She stared at the barman incredulously.

"Oh, no way."

The barman simply grinned. "What way?"

"Don't play dumb with me," Rachel growled, her headache throbbing back into her mind. "Spit it out. You're the Watcher, aren't you?"

He bowed. "At your service, madam. A rather roundabout way of coming to the truth, but nonetheless, wholly appreciated." He intertwined his fingers and rested his chin on them, elbows planted on the bar. "Now, you're going to ask why a simple hacker-slash-information peddler is here posing as a barman. I agree, it is quite suspicious, isn't it?"

Rachel groaned, rubbing her temples. "This is getting weirder and weirder. I swear you're reading my mind, that's exactly what I was gonna ask. Do me a favour and answer before I call the guards."

"That wouldn't be wise," the Watcher said, his smile never leaving his face. "I don't wish to make a scene, so I'll answer speedily and completely. Answer part one: I'm much, much more than a simple hacker. Answer part two: Being a barman in so many different places lets me keep tabs on things on all sides of these troubling events. The guy staffing the admin office here on base, a barman, a member of the Red Mesan Army technical staff…so many angles, so much information." He chuckled at Rachel's sheer bewilderment, disappearing into the storeroom behind the bar, emerging out of the staff door on Rachel's left seconds later. She glared at him.

"You're not making any sense," she said. The Watcher simply shrugged.

"That's the drawback of my…unique viewpoint," he said. "I can be cryptic as hell without realising it. Now," he said briskly, offering Rachel a hand, "I have some very interesting information for you and Sonja." Rachel looked suspiciously at him, the distrust etched on her face. The Watcher smiled sympathetically.

"Look, I know this is all a bit sudden, and you probably trust me less than you'd trust Andy with a pair of scissors, but considering I've been here all this time, I would've betrayed you by now. I'm on your side." He offered his hand again. "Trust me, what I have to show you will help your upcoming battle on the Watt Peninsula greatly."

Rachel sighed in defeat, getting off the barstool and moving past the Watcher. "I don't know how you convinced me, but alright. Let's go find Sonja." As he followed Rachel out of the Social Area, he pumped his fist in victory. Rachel sighed.

"I don't know why I'm doing this…"

"It's alright, you can say it. It's because I'm awesome."

_WHAP!_

"Ow! Hey, no hitting the Watcher!"

-R-M-R-M-R-M-R-M-

In a generic room, in a nondescript bunker, in a barren area of Red Mesa, a man saluted Cougar.

This man was an exceptional specimen of humanity, easily matching Cougar's impressive height, if not exceeding it. He was also extremely well built, the equal of any bodybuilder, and exuded a sense of incredible presence and power. With slate grey eyes and black hair shaved to within and inch of his scalp, he was every other inch a military man, decked out in clothing as casual as he was comfortable with. His skin was ghostly pale, and there was a slight shakiness to his movements that belied recent physical trauma. Cougar saw this, and while he didn't comment, he knew why the man was acting like this. For this was Amber Dawn, Red Mesa's most secret military installation, and it housed a project that was both its greatest triumph and greatest shame.

Cougar shook the man's hand, noting the dark circles under his eyes. "Late night?" he asked. The man smiled grimly and shook his head.

"Can't sleep. Harrison says that we won't be able to for some time, while our brains sort themselves out and try to get a grip on the…changes. Sorry in advance if I accidentally break anything; we've been causing havoc here, we don't know our own strength."

Cougar nodded, his mouth a grim line as he ran a hand through his hair. "How long ago was it?" he said.

"Three days ago," the man replied. "I sent a message to Victor yesterday, that being two days after the ops, after we'd taken stock of the situation as it stands." He exhaled and looked out of the observation window behind him, hands clasped behind his back. "Adjunct and Larsen are recovering the fastest. From the one hundred of us that entered the program, only twenty-two of us have gotten this far. We lost Kindjal, Wilkes, Sylan, and Neon during the enhancement process, to name but a few." He shook his head, trying to find the words he was searching for and failing. "It's…it's tough."

Cougar nodded, his face a mask of sympathy. "Lancer, tell the rest of the Cobras that you're getting a week's holiday on top of the rest period. Something tells me that what everyone needs is more time."

Lancer saluted, a smile barely creeping onto his face. "Thank you Sir. I'll tell the rest of the squad." He turned and left the room, the door clicking shut behind him. Cougar's eyes lingered on it for a few seconds more, then turned to the desk he was stood at, picking up the phone from the receiver sitting there.

"Time to make a call."

-A-N-A-N-A-N-A-N-

"So you're saying _you're_ the Watcher I've been using for the past two years, that you're also posing as a barman here, _and_ you've got vital information for us?" Sonja said, her face a perfect example of doubt as herself, the Watcher, and Rachel marched along a corridor in the Intelligence Operations Block of the Maxwell Scar base. The Watcher grinned.

"That's exactly what I'm saying!" He said brightly. "And once we get to a room with proper radio interception equipment, I can show you something."

"That something being a Red Mesan transmission?" Sonja asked shrewdly.

"Right again, Princess," the Watcher said, beaming. "Now, tell me the obvious problems with that."

"Well, for one, you have no idea when this transmission is happening," Sonja said, swerving round a soldier who was patrolling the block, jogging to catch up to Rachel and the Watcher. "The second problem is that their stealth technology means we can barely get anything with our equipment; trust me, we've tried." She ducked off the beaten path of the corridor into a room marked 'Radio Room F', Rachel and the Watcher following her, the latter hitting a light switch to illuminate the dark, boxy room. Rachel and the Watcher sat, Sonja switching on various radio communications devices sitting on desks placed against the walls. Having finished setting up the equipment, Sonja turned to the Watcher, a stern look on her face.

"So, how do you suggest we solve these problems?" she asked coldly. "The only reason I'm not putting you under military arrest right now is because of our working relationship, so explain." Rachel looked from Sonja to the Watcher, the Yellow Cometan's stare contrasting sharply with the young man's peaceful expression.

"Receiver booster turned on?" he asked, nodding to a bank of equipment. Sonja followed his gaze to the device, and nodded. "Right. Boost the sensitivity to one thousand percent above normal operating levels." Sonja's eyes narrowed.

"If I do that, we'll pick up everything within five hundred miles, save Red Mesan stealthed comms," she said shortly. She was ready to continue, but the Watcher was already on his feet and in front of the console. "Wha-"

"Right, sensitivity thousand times normal levels," he murmured, almost to himself. "Sonja, don't doubt me. Narrow the listening range to three-point-zero-five-two-six megahertz to three-point-zero-five-two-seven megahertz. Specialise for single sideband voice." Sonja hesitated, her expression unreadable, but moved to a device and began making the adjustments. Rachel was extremely confused. The Watcher was barely out of his teenage years, but it was as if he'd been working with radio communications for at least a decade. Something just didn't add up.

"Range narrowed and specialised," Sonja said, working the controls expertly. "Dial to your left, connected to the speakers. Turn it up." She honestly didn't know if she should believe the Watcher, but he was so sure of himself…so sure that he made everyone around him just that little bit more doubtful. The Watcher turned up the dial, the irregular hiss of static spilling into the room from the wall-mounted speakers.

"Even with the sensitivity up, _and_ the range narrowed and specialised, this is all we'll get," Sonja said, turning to the Watcher. "Red Mesan comms – if this is the band they use – are just too well-hidden by their stealth technology. Any bright ideas?"

"Just one…" the Watcher said, a knowing smile on his face. He produced a small device from his jacket, a metal cube covered in ports and plugs. "Personally designed and built by yours truly," he said, attaching it to his console. "Dynamic signal scrambler and decoder. Should give us the processor power we need to constantly alter the frequencies we listen to keep up with the shifting patterns of their shrouding technology." He fell silent as he typed away on the cube's miniscule keypad, before setting it down. "That should be able to compensate for their shrouding patterns…we should get a transmission right about…now." Rachel was about to speak, but fell silent when words came through the speakers.

"_Amber Dawn broadcastin'. Commander Cougar hailin' General Shade. Do you copy?"_ The voice was gruff and strong, unmistakably that of Cougar's. Sonja and Rachel looked at each other, their expressions of shock melting into triumphant smiles.

"_Watt City Military Comms Centre receiving. Shade here."_ This voice was almost clinical, very controlled and precise, a slight coldness seeping into the words spoken. Sonja immediately hit the recording button to get samples of Shade's voice, knowing they may come in useful. Rachel was still listening intently, trying to pin down the accent. It was odd, with hints of both Northern Orange Star and Black Hole's Black Latin tongue in it.

"_Just been to check up on th' Cobras, Boss. Lancer seems okay, but they're still reelin' from the operations."_

"_Are they combat ready yet?"_

"_Negative, Boss. The enhancements only took place three days ago. Over seventy-five percent of th' squad is dead; thirty-five percent of those were losses from the operations alone. Of the one hundred original Cobras that entered the program, only twenty-two made it to the end."_

"…_Damn. My apologies; I've had trouble getting the date right since my…accident at Essen City. I still haven't thanked you for taking command of that battle after the Allies incapacitated me."_

The Watcher smirked as Sonja and Rachel visibly tensed at that remark; Shade had inadvertently hit a nerve of guilt within his listeners.

"_Don't worry about it, Boss. Was more worried about you. Anyway, you said you had somethin' to discuss with me?"_

"_Yes. The Allies are planning an attack on the Watt Peninsula. Watt City, my current location, is our main coordination centre for Red Mesan fleet operations; if we lose the peninsula, we'll be hard pressed to stop a naval attack launched upon our coastal territory."_

"_Isn't Swift going to be handling the defence there?"_

"_Correct. The Allied have constructed a forward outpost on an island seven miles away from the Peninsula; air battles will feature heavily in the conflict, and Tatania's expertise will be needed."_

"_So…why're you calling me about it?"_

"_Because I want a pre-emptive strike against the outpost within four hours."_

Rachel gasped; an attack in four hours' time? It was about half eleven now; a strike at half three in the morning would catch all the people at that outpost sleeping. It would be a massacre.

"_A strike? With all due respect Boss, even we can't organise an attack that quickly."_

"_That's why I'm going to be sending a covert unit in. I don't want to cause any damage to the base itself; I just want access to their data network."_

"_You wan' Allied data? On what?"_

"_Everything. Force deployment, weapons research, the location of their main base here in the Lynx Desert, CO dossiers."_

"_That's ambitious, Boss, but what the hell, let's give it a shot. Whaddya need?"_

"_We can't use the Cobras, so we'll get the next best thing. Get some of the Vipers; maybe Red Team. Get us a dropship too. I want them at Watt City, on station and ready to go within three hours, that leaves me enough time for a briefing."_

"_Roger that, I'll do my best. Anything else?"_

"…_I'll be going with them."_

"What?!" cried Rachel and Sonja, looking at the speakers unbelievingly. What the hell was this guy thinking, sending himself into battle like this?

"_What?!"_ Obviously, Cougar was thinking the same thing.

"_I want to observe the operation in person,"_ Shade said, completely unperturbed. _"It's been far too long since I was on the ground with my men. There is also several pieces of data on their network that I want. OMI hackers have been able to pinpoint them for me, but they need to be extracted via an actual Allied computer, thanks to some rather strong encryption. None of the Vipers would be able to do it."_

"_Why not send in a team of these OMI hackers then? Would save puttin' ya in needless danger."_

"…_I don't want any body save myself to see that data."_ Shade's voice was low and firm. _"It relates to several…sensitive subjects about me. Things that I need to know."_

The speakers were silent for a few seconds, before Cougar sighed.

"_Alright Boss, go ahead. But you better be damn well careful. If something happened to you…"_

"_I'll be careful."_

"_Be extra careful. You still haven't recovered fully, your CO skills aren't at peak strength. You can't go around hurling lightning bolts like Zeus himself, dammit."_

"_Yes Mother…"_ Shade said. _"Shade out."_

The speakers fell silent, and the Watcher looked at Rachel and Sonja, smiling at their sheer surprise.

"What are you two waiting for?" he said, rising to his feet, detaching his cubic device from the console, and pocketing it. "Let's go bag us a Red Mesan General!"


	10. Blades In The Night

"_What do you think of him, Hawke?"_

"_I'm quite impressed, my Lord, but there are a few things that I find worrying. He's remarkably powerful, I'll give him that, but he has a lack of control and a violent temperament; I think the gene therapy has left a mark on his mind, as well as his genome. The decision to not use the Black Sarcophagus method of genetic alteration has put a very low limit on his lifespan, and he seems frail."_

"…_Hmm, possibly. Regardless, his lifespan is not of any concern to me; he will live long enough to serve his purpose. When fully trained and ready for deployment he will far outclass those worms, Adder and Flak. Speaking of those two, how goes the preparation for the Macro Land Campaign?"_

"_Flak has – with assistance – chosen sites for our initial invasion upon Orange Star soil. Adder is already in the troop selection process for his missions in Yellow Comet. Lash is days away from launching her attack upon Blue Moon, but the recent developments with our project here have required her experience in genetics."_

"_Very well. We will launch a coordinated offensive in five days. Do not fail me."_

"_Never, my Lord."_

-R-M-R-M-R-M-R-M-

Sightless eyes watched the cold, cloudless night sky slide by the viewport set into the fuselage of the Red Mesan dropship, their owner running a hand through his long brown hair. Turning away from the view outside, Shade looked at the members of Viper Red Team, the suited and helmeted soldiers looking back at him calmly, strapped into their seats against the walls of the aircraft. The Red Mesan General wished he was in their position; he didn't like having to stand up while on a craft in flight, it made him nervous. Still, he had to brief them all, so standing was the best option. He walked over to the troop hatch at the rear of the dropship and looked over the team, mulling over what he had just seen.

"I would've preferred an overcast sky," he mused, almost to himself, his voice hard to hear over the low, muffled rumble of turbulence buffeting the dropship. "The moonlight will make us easier to spot and will complicate the mission. Still, conditions could be worse…" Shade's voice trailed off as one of the Vipers raised a gloved hand.

"Permission to speak freely, Sir." The soldier said, his voice muffled slightly from the full-face helmet.

Shade nodded. "Permission granted, Sykes," he replied. It was hard to tell the Vipers apart – their armour made it difficult to know who was who, unless you could tell by the ID number emblazoned on their right shoulder pad. Shade hadn't trained the Vipers personally, being more involved in the Cobra Supersoldier Project that intended to replace them in high-risk field ops, but he knew them well enough to distinguish them by ID number alone.

"With all due respect, what the hell are we doing? I understand these are extraordinary times for the Red Mesan Army, but getting woken up in the middle of the night and being told to get on a dropship with the General of the armed forces is a little unexpected. I know we're heading into a combat situation; we were told to bring our gear and weapons, but nobody told us the specifics."

Shade nodded in agreement. "I'll concede that it is unexpected; the lack of preparation time meant we couldn't schedule a briefing before departure, which I thought we would have been able to do. Now we're not far off from the LZ, I will brief you in full." He reached towards the roof and pulled down the bottom of a roll of what looked like black plastic; a press of a button embedded in the bottom right corner of the sheet fed power into it and revealed its true purpose as a compact flatscreen monitor. Shade produced a small handheld device from a pocket on his trenchcoat and thumbed a button on it, the screen's display flickering to show a birds-eye view of the Allied Nations' nearby island outpost.

"This is Kadarch Island," Shade said. "In preparation for their assault on the Watt Peninsula in two days time, they have built an outpost here and fortified it heavily with static gun emplacements and anti-air platforms. It serves as a major airbase for Allied operations here. A successful attack against the Peninsula, our main naval coordination centre, would cripple the operational capacity of our fleet and leave our shores wide open to a heavy and sustained invasion attempt. Commander Swift will be dealing with the defence of the Peninsula; she plans to meet the Allied Commander Eagle's air assault with her own formidable aerial forces. I'm sure you've all heard of her 23rd Air Squadron, the Stratohawks…" a few of the Vipers nodded. Swift's 23rd were a notorious squadron; the Stratohawks consisted of pilots hand-picked by Swift for displaying great skill or heightened three-dimensional awareness. The airforce CO trained them personally to be the best, and sometimes even joined them in the skies on sorties, inspiring them to incredible feats. Many a rebel base stubbornly soldiering on after their side's defeat in the Civil War a decade ago had been reduced to scorched, battered wastelands from their sudden and brutal onslaught.

"Anyway," Shade said, thumbing the remote's button again and bringing up the locations of the defensive emplacements, "This op is a rapid insertion with a view to sabotage. I hadn't really considered the added bonus of weakening their defences ahead of the battle, but one of my lieutenants pointed it out and I thought 'hell, why not?'" He did a quick count of heads. "There's nine members of Red Team here; six of you, henceforth known as Betas One to Six, will locate and plant explosives on as many static emplacements as they can get their hands on, while the other three – Alphas One to Three - will accompany myself on a trip to the outpost's data centre. They will protect me while I procure some rather sensitive data from the Allied network."

"I know what you're going to ask," Shade continued, raising a hand, "'Why are you risking yourself by coming along?'. There are many reasons. One, this data is top-secret, and only meant for someone of my rank."

'_That isn't entirely true,'_ he thought, _'but white lies make the world go round.'_ He gave a wry smirk, before continuing.

"Two, due to some impressive network security it has to be accessed from an Allied terminal, which prevents OMI from tearing it out of the Allies' databases by force. Three, it's been far too long since I've been on the field and to be frank, I bloody enjoy being with my men during an operation."

'Sykes' nodded. "Don't have to justify it to us Sir. Just as long as you don't fry us by accident."

"I won't be frying anyone for a while," Shade said matter-of-factly. "My 'accident' has stripped me of a lot of my strength for the time being; I might be able to manage a few taser punches, but I'm mostly just a walking spark show."

"Whatever lights your lightbulb, Boss."

"Indeed…" Shade swayed slightly as the dropship started to descend. "Okay, we're starting the descent. As soon as that hatch opens I want you on the ground and clearing the dropzone; Betas will then search and destroy on the emplacements while the Alphas will go with me. You are to shoot at _hostile_ targets…and anything stupid enough to get in our way. Do you understand?"

"SIR YES SIR!"

"Alright…" Shade let the flatscreen monitor roll up into the ceiling and turned to face the hatch at the rear of the troop compartment, a cold sneer on his face. "Payback time."

-A-N-A-N-A-N-A-N-

"I spy, with my metahuman eye…"

"Christ Watcher, give it a rest already! You've been playing I Spy with yourself for the last two hours!"

"…Something that looks suspiciously like a Red Mesan dropship on an intercept vector!" The Watcher said with a grin. He blinked, and turned to look at Rachel from across the command room. "…Did you say something?"

"I said…you…argh, j-just forget it," Rachel growled, running a hand down her face. She paused, and turned to the Watcher. "Did you just say-"

"'I spy with my metahuman eye'? why yes, I did!" he said proudly. "You're quite attentive." He smiled as the Orange Starian came stomping over.

"My fist will be quite attentive to your face if you don't stop being irritating," she grumbled, joining him at the radar console he was studying. "You saw their dropship?"

"That I did, tall, ginger and moody. Coming in low, obviously trying to avoid your radar." He pointed to a barely visible blip on the scope. "I'd say they'll be dropping off some troops and Mr Red Mesan General in a few minutes. So polite of them, coming round to say hi to their new neighbours. I wonder if they're bringing housewarming presents…"

Sonja rolled her eyes from where she stood, scanning the island and simultaneously co-ordinating the movements of the guards patrolling the base, from the safety of the control tower the three were in. "Care to cut the cryptic comments and tell us where he's dropping off? I want to set up a quick and bloodless ambush."

"I'm afraid your ambush may be more violent than you think," the Watcher said, the smile disappearing from his face. "Shade may well be out for a little payback after what happened to him at the start of the war…and considering how he's bringing along just one dropship, he may well be bringing the best of the best."

"So you're saying we should expect him to be out for blood," Sonja said sniffily. "I doubt he's _that_ juvenile." The Watcher shrugged, turning back to look at the radar scope again.

"I know a lot about Red Mesa and its people," he replied. "Shade in particular. Mr Matthew Awner is a peculiar creature, motivated by few things. Few…but he pursues them with a fervour that is frightening to some. He's out for blood, yes, because you hold something that he desperately needs, and he's willing to walk into the middle of one of your bases to get it."

"Your crypticism is starting to get irritating," Sonja droned. "What is he after?"

The Watcher shrugged and crossed to the stairs leading down to the bottom floor of the control tower, leaning against the railings of the stairwell. "That's something I'm not privy to," he said apologetically. "Even this Watcher can't see what that guy's thinking...well, that's not entirely true, but whatever. My instincts tell me that this isn't related to the war, though. Considering he launched this operation as fast as is humanly possible and outside of normal channels, it's quite likely he's looking for something…personal."

"Launching an infiltration attempt for personal gain?" Rachel said incredulously. "Not saying I pity the guy, but he'd better have a damn good reason." She watched, hands on her hips, as the Watcher's eyes thinned. His eyes began to glow softly, garnering surprise from the two Allied commanders.

"…There's something missing," he said, as if in a trance. "Gaps…blank spots that drive him crazy. He wants…"

"…Watcher?"

"Watcher, what does he want?"

He opened his eyes fully and looked at them. "Memories. He wants memories. That's as much as I can pull from him."

"You mean you can read mi-"

"Anyway!" he said brightly, cutting across Sonja while stepping down the stairs. "He's gonna land in a few minutes, you need to decide how to respond, and I seriously need a smoke. Cheerio!" he descended down the stairs, leaving Rachel and Sonja to look at each other and wonder.

-R-M-R-M-R-M-R-M-

The dull roar of the midnight black dropship's engines rose to a scream as the turbojets on the side of the aircraft swivelled down to bring the craft down safely to the ground of Kadarch Island. The transport hovered no more than a foot above the floor, the troop hatch facing the base and the cockpit hanging over a sheer cliff, the dark waters crashing against the rock in the moonlight. Ten figures leapt down from the now-open hatch and immediately moved behind the somewhat safe cover of a ridge, bursting out of the grass. Nine of them were clad in black combat suits with full-face helmets; the tenth was in a black greatcoat and was scanning the terrain around them from behind ruby-red sunglasses.

"Switch to radio communication," Shade said, putting on and securing a headset. "Secure channel, sound off." Immediately, the Vipers followed his orders, quickly switching to radio comms.

"Alpha One, Sykes sounding off."

"Two, Arrow sounding off with _so much_ enthusiasm."

"Three, Lars bored as hell and wantin' to tear shit up."

"Beta One, Dallas sounding off and reminding you morons to keep as much radio silence as possible."

Shade watched with what he hoped was detached boredom as the Vipers sounded off. He didn't want to appear too eager to get this operation underway, even though he was itching to get in there and start the first step on the long road to piecing his life back together. He didn't know where this newfound drive to sort himself out had come from: maybe his brush with near-death had finally shaken him out of his rut? He shook his head; now was not the time to be self-reflective. He looked back up just as the last Viper sounded off.

"Beta Six, Tyson sounding off, Sir."

"Okay," Shade breathed. "Betas, you know what you're doing; take down as many emplacements as you can. Once the Alphas and I are done, I'll contact you and tell you to haul ass to the pickup point. Move!"

"Sir!" they barked as one, stalking off into the darkness to begin the task of weakening the base's defences. Even with the unfortunate addition of moonlight to make their sneaking task harder, they managed to slot themselves in between two guard patrols without making so much as a rustle. Nodding to himself, Shade turned to the three remaining Vipers.

"Sykes, Arrow, Lars, with me. We won't be as stealthy as them; we can only get so far into the base before we _have_ to go into fully lit areas. Standard pattern, cover all angles of the principal."

"The 'principal' in question being you, Sir," Sykes said. Even with the full-face helmet, Shade could tell he was smirking.

"Exactly. Time is oh-three-hundred hours, we have an hour maximum to get in, get the data, and get out. Let's go." The four Red Mesans rose together and started to move through the small expanse of grass, heading towards the chain link fence that signified the boundaries of the base, the three soldiers assuming a triangular formation around Shade, watching all angles for any sign of a hostile.

"Well hey there tall, dark and angsty! Looks like you're off hunting!"

_C-CLICK!_

_C-CLICK!_

Leaning against a nearby tree, The Watcher quickly found himself looking at the business end of two Red Mesan rifles, the other Viper acting as rearguard. Shade raised an eyebrow as he looked the young man over.

"Who the hell are you-"

"Tell your boys to lower their guns," the Watcher said, eyes twinkling behind his glasses. "I'm not an enemy here. Also, someone may get hurt, and that's bad."

Shade nodded. "Stand down." The Vipers did so, their weapons clicking slightly as the catches were thumbed back to 'safe', the barrels now pointing at the ground. "Start talking, and make it quick. I have no idea who you are and I have no reason to trust you."

"How can you say you have no idea who I am?" The Watcher mock-groaned. He grinned. "You've seen me around. Technician Lyons, bartender in the Commons…I've kept tabs on Red Mesa, much as I keep tabs on…well, everyone." He bowed. "You can call me The Watcher. From one ghost to another, it's nice to finally meet you." He grinned as Shade's eyes widened behind his sunglasses. "Ah, so you _do_ recall me! Well, that's better than my last girlfriend, at least. Girl doesn't even remember my name anymore…"

"…But how did you get here-"

"I'd be out of a job if I told you all my tricks," The Watcher said, still sporting a grin. "Let's just say I can get from one place to another pretty damn quick. Now," he said, striding past the bemused Red Mesan General, "I'll get on to the meat and potatoes of why I'm here. You're looking for something in that thar Allied base, aren't you?"

"That I am. What of it?"

"Well," The Watcher said, spinning on his heel to look back at Shade. "They know you're coming. Sonja managed to crack your encryption routines – they are absolutely _fantastic_, if I do say so myself – and the guards are waiting for you. They don't know about your other group of soldiers doing the dirty with their emplacements, though." Shade made a face, looking down at the ground as the gears in his head whirred.

"Damn…" he hissed. He paced back and forth a bit, while the Vipers shifted nervously and The Watcher smiled, as calm as ever.

He paced.

He turned.

He paced.

"…Hmm…"

He stopped. He turned to The Watcher.

"You say they don't know about Beta Squad. The ones going to bomb the emplacements."

"That I did. They don't realise I know, but as you might have guessed, I'm a very good…watcher."

"Then it's simple." Shade thumbed a button on his headset. "Beta Squad, this is Shade. The Allied Nations know me and the Alphas are coming. I need you to make some noise; when you first blow up some emplacements, blow up something like five all at once. That should be enough to confuse the guards and give us time to slice a path into their data centre building. Do you copy?"

The Watcher turned to look at Sykes, eyebrow raised. "He's quite the tactician."

"Roger that. Shade out." He gave himself the liberty of a feral grin as he looked at The Watcher. "Problem solved. Thanks for the heads up." The Watcher grinned and bowed in return.

"Just keeping the playing field level, that's all. Good luck and good hunting."

_FLASH!_

Shade and the Vipers shielded their eyes as The Watcher disappeared suddenly and inexplicably in a flash of blue light. Shade sighed and shook his head.

"Well, that was lucky," Arrow droned. Shade shook his head, staring at the spot where The Watcher vanished.

"Luck has nothing to do with it. Whoever he is, he knows a lot about both us and the Allies. He's the one holding all the cards, and I have a strange feeling we're all just dancing to his tune…for better or for worse."

-R-M-R-M-R-M-R-M-

Red Mesan Army Central HQ, Iseba.

The Commons.

Night.

"Grrgh… I seriously need some nic-o-tine," grumbled a half-asleep and bedraggled Cougar, pushing through the double doors into the Commons, the large circular leisure and social room for the Army's command staff. He hadn't been able to sleep since his call to Shade, apart from occasionally dropping off for a half hour or so; he was still wearing his usual shirt, jacket and worn jeans combo, although slightly more dishevelled than usual due to the late hour. The muscular man's glinting grey eyes peered through the barely-lit gloom of the now-dormant room, picking out the smooth shapes of plush wooden chairs and low mahogany tables. He weaved through the jungle of furniture, crossing the room to the balcony.

_THUD!_

"Fuggin'…ow!" Cougar yelped, a bit too girlishly for a man of his masculine stature. "God damned chairs...stubbed toe today, broken legs tomorrow…" he grumbled, opened the doors to the balcony, and walked out into the cool night air, producing a packet of cigarettes from his jacket pocket. Leaning against the balcony railings, he stared out at the night sky, and the twinkling expanse of Iseba below it.

"Can't sleep either?" a voice said to his right.

"DAH!" he yelped again, jumping at least a foot off the floor – and landing on the foot with the previously stubbed toe. "OW! Jesus…why'd ya have to go n' do that, Tatania?"

Swift shrugged, a soft smile playing about her pretty features as she looked at him. "Because it's fun to emasculate you in spite of all your testosterone-fuelled manliness?"

"…Good answer." Cougar produced a lighter from his jacket, lit a cigarette, and took a long drag before speaking again. "Just wonderin' how Shade's little jaunt is goin', that's all. He made his last transmission a few minutes before oh-three-hundred hours, just as they were touching down; he's enforced radio silence since then."

"He…he should be fine," Swift murmured, looking back out at the dull horizon. "Though this sudden burst of…of _activity_ is not really him." She bit her lip. "It's as if that accident back at the start of the war has changed him."

"It probably has, y'know." Swift's eyes flitted back to Cougar as he sighed and flicked ash into the night. "After our first chat, tha one where he said he wanted ta walk into tha goddamn belly of the beast on nothin' but a wing an' a prayer, I asked him to at least justify it."

"But he said he wanted to get some data out of the Allied network, isn't that justification enough? At least…for him?"

Cougar looked at her. "Do ya honestly believe that little spiel?" he said bluntly. Swift looked down at her feet.

"H-He's entitled to his secrets, Miavia-"

A growl. "Secrets, secrets…Tatania, everythin' about that kid is a damn _secret!_" Cougar's voice rose to a shout. "Even after I pressed him for info, he told me nothin'!" he threw his arms up in an expression of exasperation. "He's obsessed with what he's doin', girl! No consideration fo' what might happen to him…n' that we might worry for his safety." He fumed. "God dammit, he's always had secrets! Where's th' trust between fellow COs?" he looked Swift square in the eyes forlornly. "Tatania, I thought we were more n' just comrades…I thought we were family…"

Swift sighed softly, her eyes downcast. "We could never be a true family again, Miavia. Not after what we did to - to Iscariot. Not after what he did – wh-what he did to us…"

Cougar flinched, before matching Swift's sigh with his own. "Three years on, n' I still miss John..." he looked up at the starry night sky, his eyes hollow. "No deeper wound than betrayal, is there…?"

The night remained quiet, still and cold.

-A-N-A-N-A-N-A-N-

"Woah, what the – what did he just do?"

"Oh yeah!" The Watcher said, slapping a hand to his forehead, "I forgot to tell you about that. Yeah, he's a walking lightning bolt as far as I know. Looks like he's a little low on power though, otherwise your guards would be dead from electrocution, not bullet wounds."

"Do you honestly think that's any better?" Sonja said coldly, standing with Rachel and their black-haired, blue-clothed acquaintance as they studied the base's CCTV feeds. They had just borne witness to Shade and three suited soldiers quickly and clinically gunning down a couple of patrolling guards on the outskirts of the base. The two unlucky victims were stood in the harsh orange glow of one of the base spotlights when they were felled by a shadow in the darkness, blood leaking from expertly placed bullet wounds on their chest. The three soldiers had moved into the view of the camera and into the light right in front of the Allied COs eyes, before they got their first glimpse of Shade in the flesh, stalking coldly out of the shadows in the direction the guards had been shot from. A few curt words they couldn't hear over the video-only feed, and a pair of ruby-lensed sunglasses looked up at them, regarding the camera for a second, before a hand was flung out and a bolt of brilliant whitish-blue electricity had turned the CCTV feed to static.

"Well, it's easier to treat bullet wounds than electrical burns on ninety percent of your body," The Watcher said with a shrug of his blue-jacketed shoulders.

Rachel looked pensively at the wall of monitors, scanning for a sign of the infiltrators…something, anything, even just a flash of electricity. "This is going to complicate things," she said, a worried twist to her voice. "How do we track them if he keeps destroying the surveillance cameras?"

"Track them by the ones that get destroyed?"

"Cute Watcher, but that won't help. We need to know what they're carrying…weapons, tools, anything. That'll help us figure out what he wants to do and where he's going to do it."

"Well go up and ask them, Empress-in-waiting. I'm sure they'd be happy to let you know…just before they shoot you. Meanwhile, let's go over what we already have." The Watcher entered a few keystrokes, bringing up the feed from the first camera on the main monitor inset into the security bank. He slowed the video down just as Shade entered the frame, zooming in and slow it down to a few frames a second before…

"Gotcha," The Watcher said with a smile. "Should've kept your trenchcoat closed, ya naughty flasher. The girls can see your…'equipment'." He pointed a finger at the picture on the screen; a device hitched to Shade's belt, peeking out of the folds of his coat. "Either of you two know what that is?"

"That looks like an 'Owl Talon' Type 53 Electronic Intrusion Tool…" Sonja murmured. She gasped, eyes wide. "That's…that's IDS tech!"

"IDS?" Rachel said confusedly.

"Intelligent Defence Systems," The Watcher stated. "It's a part – or should I say, _was_ a part – of that grand bastion of corporate bastardry, the military-industrial complex."

"They went under about three years ago…" Sonja murmured, stroking her chin. "Just after the war in Macro Land. It came out that the CEO was guilty of some rather nasty ethical and human rights abuses, _and_ he'd thrown most of the company's assets into a joint project with Black Hole, something called 'Slipspider'."

The Watcher blinked at that, before suppressing a knowing smirk as Sonja continued.

"Said 'Slipspider' project never came to fruition, bringing about the economic and public collapse of the company. But for this…Shade to have some of their equipment…is it merely happenstance, or were they in cooperation? Red Mesan technology does seem to be a step or two beyond most of the Allies…"

Rachel's eyes narrowed. "It would give us a legitimate reason to continue hostilities," she murmured. "If IDS were in cahoots with both Red Mesa and Black Hole, it would explain the similarity of Red Mesan cloaking tech to the Black Hole prototypes we found. And the friend of a friend of our enemy…is our enemy."

The Watcher raised an eyebrow. "That's a dangerous assumption to make, milady. How can you be sure that both Black Hole and Red Mesa are connected through IDS?"

"I can't," Rachel said, "But I can sure as hell try and find out. And we still can't rule out the possibility that Red Mesa is more intimately connected to Black Hole than we thought…"

"Hold that thought," The Watcher said, looking up at a monitor at the top of the bank. "We've got three hyper masculine guys in armour and one thin, slightly effeminate long-haired electric metrosexual!"

"…What?"

"We've got Shade and the soldiers," he muttered, rolling his eyes. "Damn people, laugh! It won't break your faces!"

"I'll laugh when this night is over," grumbled Rachel as she looked at the screen. Her eyes narrowed. "They're heading towards the data centre-" she was cut off as a second bolt of electricity fried the camera. "Oh, for _Sturm's sake!_"

"Don't use the Snifit Lord's name in vain, Rachel."

"Oh, shut up, Watcher-" Rachel was cut off again as-

**BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMM!!**

-an earth-shaking explosion roared its burning way into the night sky, the shockwave rattling the windows of the control tower. Sonja and Rachel turned and gasped at a plume of fire licking up from the western end of the island. The Watcher was already at a computer, searching for info on what had happened.

"Hey guys, five of your static emplacements just went off the network," The Watcher said, mock-scratching his chin. "I wonder what that meeeeeaaaans?"

"Tricky little…" Sonja fumed, glaring at the afterglow of the explosions, before taking a breath and regaining her icy composure. "He's outmanoeuvred us, probably sent out an extra team to soften us up for tomorrow's battle."

"Actually it's not 'tomorrow', it's 'today' – y'know, because it went past midnight like over three hours ago-"

"**Shut up, Watcher!"** both girls cried in unison.

"Yeesh, the things I get for helping…" he rolled his eyes as Sonja spoke into a radio handset.

"All troops, this is Commander Sonja. Squad One, I want you to meet us at the base of the control tower ASAP. All other squads, fan out and track down our saboteurs!" she moved towards the stairwell with Rachel in tow, glancing at The Watcher who was busy scanning the security monitors again. "Where is he?"

"Considering the camera covering the entrance of the data centre just got fried, I'd say he's in your computers, hacking your networks."

"Right…" Sonja said, producing and cocking a handgun from her uniform. "Let's go give him a rude interruption-"

"Woah woah woah woah woah woah wait," The Watcher said, waving his arms. "Guns? As in…shooty shooty bang bang death kill guns?"

"Yes. What's the matter?"

"I-I think I'll stay here," The Watcher said with a nervous grin. "I'm n-not exactly comfortable in firefights or standoffs or whatever."

"Whatever. Just keep in contact over the radio and keep us updated on what's happening, will you?"

"Sure thing," The Watcher said, looking at the Allied COs as they descended the stairwell to go meet their 'guest'. _"I'll be…watching…"_ he added under his breath.

-R-M-R-M-R-M-R-M-

Tense breathing filled the data centre as the Vipers positioned themselves to cover Shade, who was stood in front of a terminal hooking up his intrusion device to the network. He glanced at his soldiers, noting their stony silence compared to his own panting, his body tired out from shorting out the security cameras and blitzing the high-tech security doors open with his powers.

"Sykes, Arrow, Lars. Stay sharp," he breathed, watching as the terminal's screen flickered once, twice, and turned into a green DOS prompt. "I have a feeling they know we're here by now."

_RAT-A-TAT-A-TAT!_ Shade winced and pulled his head down below the screen as gunfire issued forth from a door that had just been opened on the opposite side of the room. Rows of terminals sparked and died under the hail of heated lead.

"Yep! They know we're here!" Arrow yelped, the three Vipers rolling into position behind terminals and away from their commander to return fire. Sykes poked his head out for a split second to see what they were up against; twenty soldiers, as far as he could tell. He gasped. "They REALLY know we're here!"

"Keep them busy," Shade droned as he pounded away on the keyboard, whipping up a script to tear any data related to him out of the network and copy it to the intrusion tool's flash drive. "This won't take long. One of you keep an eye on our rear."

"Gladly," Lars mused, pivoting his large frame to angle his carbine at the door. "Seems like we're safe on that side for now."

"Mmm," Shade hummed, not really paying attention as bullets whizzed past him and blasted craters into the plaster on the walls. "Anything about Matthew Awner…" he mumbled to himself. "All I can really remember…give me what you've got!" he hissed, hitting the enter key. Pictures, text, and folders flashed past in the browser on the screen, bits and pieces collecting in another window he had open. While the scan was running, he moused over to a file and clicked-

His eyes widened behind his shades. It was a citizen database record from Orange Star. His mouth hung open and his lips twitched as he read.

"M-Matthew Alexander Awner," he whispered. "M-My middle name i-is-"

"_Alex?" a girl no older then ten said. A childish grin, blonde hair and sapphire eyes. "Cool! Better than mine, mine's Anne. Blech! Is there anything more…more old-sounding?!"_

"_Sounds snooty to me, Sarah," a boy of eleven said. Brown hair, grey eyes. "You sure you're not some sorta royalty, Matt?"_

"_Better than yours, Mr. Ryan Thompson Buxton," 'Sarah' said, tongue poking out. "Alexander is cool, makes him sound like some big conqueror from ancient history."_

A small, timid whimper escaped his throat, a haunting facsimile of the childhood that he barely remembered, and was only now beginning to piece back together.

"S…S-Sarah?" he whispered, staring off into nothingness. "…Ryan?"

_P-PING!_ The sound of ricocheting bullet fire snapped him out of his reverie. He stared at the screen, barely noticing his (even more) pale reflection. He composed himself, disconnecting the intrusion device and logging out of the network.

"You finished yet Boss?!" came Arrow's voice. "We're kinda sorta under fire here." A metre away from Shade, Lars nodded as he watched the door. "Yeah, we're kinda sorta under fire," he rumbled.

Shade nodded. "I'm done; Lars, kick that door open and let's get the hell out of here." He switched channels to Alpha Team. "Alphas, move towards the extraction point. The dropship should be coming in soon." He waited for a reply before switching back to Beta Team. "Move!"

"Roger," Lars said, slamming the door open with the butt on his rifle, bulletfire splashing above his head. "No door can stop us now!"

"Can it," Sykes grumbled, following Arrow and Shade out of the door. Lars rolled his eyes beneath his helmet and rolled out of the door after his team just as the Allied soldier's bullets pinged their way after him. He picked himself up, shutting the door behind him and grumbling as he stood up to see-

"God dammit." Another twenty soldiers, encircling them in a semicircle against the wall of the data centre. And at the very middle of the line, handguns raised and pointed towards the four, were Rachel and Sonja. The Vipers immediately arranged themselves in front of and to the side of Shade, giving him as much cover as they could.

"Give it up Shade," Rachel said, keeping her aim steady and true. "You may have got what you came for, but you're not leaving here. Not without a fight – a fight you will _lose._"

_C-CLACK!_ The Vipers raised their rifles – but a thin-fingered, firm hand pressed down on the end of the rifle in front of Shade. Sykes turned to his side to see Shade.

"Sir!" he hissed, as Shade brushed past him. "What are you doing-" he was silenced with a look from his commander, who then turned to stare down Rachel and Sonja.

"I was wondering when we'd have the pleasure of meeting," Shade said, inclining his head. His voice suddenly took on a cold, chilling turn. "I wanted to look into the eyes of the person responsible for my near-death."

Rachel suppressed a shudder. "That was a mistake-"

"A mistake," Shade said calmly. "I can accept that. But only because you've made another one." Rachel's brow twisted in confusion.

"What do you mean-"

A sneer. "_You've positioned your soldiers in just the right position._" Shade raised his right hand, tensed, and-

"**RRRRRRAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUUUUGHHHHH!!"** Electricity covered his body, sparking and crackling and jumping from limb to limb to hand to face to finger and up and up-

**BZZZZTTT-POW-P-POW-POW-P-P-POW!!**

The floodlights illuminating the scene sparked and exploded in a shower of hot glass and sparks, showering the unsuspecting Allies, catching them off-guard as Shade glanced at his Vipers and shouted.

"MOVE!" The Vipers jerked into motion, following Shade as he sprinted right towards Rachel and Sonja, brushing past them and into the now-darkened alleyways of the base. The two Allied COs coughed and winced, whirling around to see where their quarry had gone – and spotting a pair of ruby-red lenses glinting at them. A voice issued forth from the darkness.

"_Always too slow, aren't you? Heh…misellius."_ They raised their handguns – but he was gone, back into the darkness like a ghost. Rachel growled and holstered her pistol, Sonja doing the same.

"We had him!" she seethed, clenching her fists and turning back to her men.

"At least we know what he's capable of…" Sonja mused, gazing off in thought. "Such a display of power…it reminds me of Hawke's betrayal of Sturm. Black Hole COs always seem to be able to use their powers on a local-scale basis, not just on a battlefield-wide one…"

"Next time all the tricks in the world won't save him."

"We want him alive, Rachel. He can give us answers."

"You're right…" Rachel shook her head and looked around. "Alright men, back to your posts and patrol routes," Rachel said, eliciting salutes and nods from the soldiers before they moved off. She turned to Sonja, and opened her mouth to speak before footsteps cut her off. She turned her head to see-

"He got away, huh?" The Watcher said grimly as he approached the two COs.

"Bastard blew the lights," Rachel droned. Then she blinked, a thought coming to her. "Sonja, did you hear what he said to us as they left? It sounded foreign."

"'_Misellius'_, Sonja replied, hands on her hips as she gazed at the coming dawn. "It was Black Latin. He was calling us 'pathetic'…"

Rachel frowned. "Black Latin…isn't that-"

"The ceremonial language of Black Hole?" The Watcher interrupted. "Indeed it is. Obviously Mr. Pale 'n' Sparky was, at some point, a Black Holer…and considering Black Latin is only used high up in the government…"

"He must have been pretty important," Rachel completed. "First IDS gives us a link between Black Hole and Red Mesa, and now we find that Shade was at some point a big player in Black Hole…" she shook her head, her frown deepening. "Problem is, none of it's solid enough to be a casus belli for us." She gestured at Sonja. "Sonja?"

"Yes?"

"Go check up on what he copied from our network," Rcahel ordered. "Perhaps we can find out more about him…we need leads to go on right now."

"Understood." Sonja made to move off back into the data centre, but stopped as Rachel's hand landed on her shoulder.

"Don't worry about getting everything right now," Rachel said. "Eagle may well be fighting the battle tomorrow, but we need sleep as well." A smile. "Especially us two."

Sonja nodded, a tired smile on her face as well. "Okay. I'll see you tomorrow morning-"

"Don't you mean 'later today'? It's 'tomorrow' already-"

"**SHUT UP, WATCHER!"**

"Hah, getting double-teamed by a pair of women…this is the stuff wet dreams are made of." The Watcher turned away from the two and waved a hand. "When the crap next hits the fan, I'll swing by and offer a hand." The black-haired youth walked away from the pair and into the shadows of the base.

"Aren't you going to wish us luck?" Rachel said with a smirk. The Watcher turned back to look at her, two softly glowing blue eyes peering at her behind a pair of glasses.

"When I'm involved…" he smilingly said, "There's no such thing as 'luck'." He bowed, and disappeared into the darkness, his voice issuing forth. "Be seeing you."


End file.
